Sand Dunes
by Delillium
Summary: In return for full pardons all around, the Saints are asked to assist in a high-stakes operation involving a group of relentless terrorists in Afghanistan. However, the Boss and gang are kidnapped. Separated from those he considers family and put under brutal torture methods, his only motivation is saving his gang. Will the bosses mind crack, or learn to subdue the torture?
1. A Captivating Deal

**Sand Dunes**

* * *

_Jack laughed in his face, a smirk spreading across his mouth. "You can't be serious, mate."_

_The man didn't move, hands in his suit pockets with an unamused expression on his face. _

_Jack began to feel a little nervous, he wasn't exactly used to getting no response out of someone even after provoking them. He waited another second or two, and when he was met with the same empty eyes his mouth flat-lined._

_"We're not exactly the military type. I don't see us fitting in." _

_The man pinched the bridge of his nose now and sat onto the couch, unbuttoning his suit-jacket and folding his leg across his knee. Jack gave him a suspicious look but follow his example, sitting in the couch across from him, folding his leg across his own knee. _

_"Are you aware of how _**_many _**_people you've killed Mr. Taylor?"_

_His voice was forceful now, __Jack swallowed and smiled again, giving a shrug, but silently, he knew he wasn't liking the way this was going. It was becoming less and less an offer. _

_"And you realize your own expertise in the art of killing I hope? We've all viewed some of your best work. Taking down military trained operatives? I hate to inflate your ego, but that's not a skill that goes unnoticed. Coming from the Commander in Chief himself, full pardons. All around. If you agree to my former proposition, Mr. Taylor."  
_

_Jack straightened out his light blue tie, thinking through his fake compliments and empty bigheadedness. "Full pardons, eh?"_

_The man raised his eyebrows, nodding, "You realize the immensity of that, don't you? You're a smart man after all. An idiot wouldn't be running the Saints." _

_"You want my entire crew in the sad dunes? I'm just clarifying here, mate." _

_"Oh, right. But, no. Just you and five of your most trusted people, or high-ranking. However you do it." _

_"I've only got four that I trust." _

_"That'll do fine." He slipped a paper passed to him by the military officer behind him, over to Jack. He was about to grab his pen but Jack grabbed his own out of his dress-shirt pocket and hovered over the line. _

_"All you gotta do is kill some terrorist-sons-of-a-bitches. Full pardons." _

_Jack pressed his pen to the paper, and finally, signed across the line. _

* * *

Jack's eyes slowly opened, his head was swimming and he took a shaky breath.

He coughed, sputtering out some dust that caked his mouth and he swallowed, which turned out to not be a good idea. Leading him into a coughing fit.

"Ah, I see you are awake, Mr. Taylor."

"Wha-…?"

"Let us not play games. We know what you're after, but we're after something just as valuable."

"Mate, I have _no _fucking clue what you're talking about…"

He looked up from his place on the floor, pushing against the ground to try and sit up. A boot on his back slammed him back into the ground, "You are _my _prisoner now. You _will _understand that."

"I already got the memo, don't worry." Jack murmured hoarsely, he looked around the large and rather empty room. There was a pit and an empty cot but the rest of the room was dark save for a couple burning lanterns which did little to illuminate.

"Where's my people? That I came with?"

"You shouldn't be concerned about them, they're all fighting for themselves at the moment. What I need, comes from you."

"Alright, alright, let's see if I know what you're jabbering on about. Throw it at me. What're you looking for, exactly?"

"You should already know.." He drawled though his thick Afghani accent, "…considering you are high ranking military man, yes? So, I will play along while my good mood lasts, and ignore your blatant fake ignorance. You are in possession of my brother, you have caught-en him one week ago. I want him returned, alive. You have the power to do this. But I'm in giving mood."

He nodded to himself, Jack watching through his doubling vision as he walked back and forth, five men in the background with guns pointed towards me.

"…I will settle for location and your promise he's there."

"Mate, honestly, you've gone bonkers or-"

"We'll have to do this hard way, Mr. Taylor?"

"I don't fucking _know _what you're talking about! I'm high-ranking, sure, but-"

"So then you should know, there are _no _excuses! Do not attempt to fill my head with lies. I have had enough of this…_Americancy_! You spread lies and conspiracy. You destroy my people and their beliefs, crush them like little scorpions in the sand." His voice grew quieter as he came closer, "I won't have for one more lie. One more self-serving American."

He cut the distance and kneeled down in front of him, and even still, he was looking down at him. Truly flaunting all of his power.

Power trip, much?" Jack joked dryly.

He roughly took him by the shoulder, pulling him up and pushing him against a wall. He held him tight but Jack knew that any attempt at escape at _this _point would be futile. He didn't have a weapon, and whatever drugs they'd so obviously pumped into his system by this point was making him weak and nauseous.

"What've you done to me..?" Jack groaned, looking for any kind of injection sights that he might be able to see, even through his obscured vision.

The man before him held him by the throat, and smirked. "Good. I was thinking it had not worked by listening to your mouth run and run."

He let him drop to the floor, and look back at his men. "Just don't kill him."

And walked out, the other five men dropped their guns, and smiled. But it wasn't a smile he could trust, it wasn't a friendly grin to assure him everything was going to be all right. It was a menacing one, and he wondered.

He wondered just briefly, if his friends, his partners in crime, his family, was actually still alive.

They begun to speak in a language he couldn't make out, but at least he was pretty sure that it didn't have anything to do with the drugs, he was almost positive they were speaking their mother-tongue, but how could he know for sure?

A man left and came back moments later, pulling in a chair behind him and some rope. He didn't know if he could say anything to change their minds, or _do _anything, so he sat there like a dumb fool letting them tie him up to a chair, gag him with a dirty cloth, and each take their turns at punching him in the face, arms, gut. Whatever they felt like.

Until finally, on the second round, he couldn't take anymore, and closed his eyes.


	2. Punishment

**2**

* * *

Maybe this would be his end.

Maybe this would be the final round.

_This _would be how the Saint's died? Giving up to a bunch of terrorists because they were pussies and wanted to get pardons for all their crimes?

It's not the way Gat would _ever_ consider going out.

He opened his eyes.

"No. I can't…I can't let this happen.."He whispered.

"I see you are ready to tell me a location? Yes?"

Jack opened his mouth to remind him, again, he didn't know. He didn't know where his God damn brother was, and never would as long as he was rotting away in this cave, but he silenced himself.

What would it do to anger him?

He had to calm himself, and remember again, what it was like to be the underdog so long ago. When he first became a Saint, and had nothing but a pair of baggy jeans and a T-shirt. He had to remember just how to be a subordinate. He couldn't piss him off, so he was quiet, licking his dry lips.

"Can I get some water?" He asked hoarsely.

Even with his best intentions of just buying some time, the man before him with his long beard and fat body stuffed in brown robes, was throughly angered by the favor being asked.

"You want _water?_" He laughed and his men joined in, snickering behind him with their guns still cocked at Jack. "Let's give him some water, since he's deciding not to talk again. Maybe the…the…_beating _was not enough?"

Jack felt himself losing patience with the situation quickly, his breath shaking vigorously, but he wouldn't let them see him angry just yet.

So he swallowed and pushed back the anger as they grabbed him from the chair he'd fallen asleep in for God knew how long. Was it day or night? How long had been in there?

They untied his feet and pushed him with guns to his back, urging him to the front door with shaky legs, and took the rag that once been his mouth to cover his eyes. He wasn't sure when they'd taken it out of his mouth, but that was the least of his concerns at the moment.

They led him along a hallway, that he tried desperately to walk through, but his legs felt as though they'd give out on him at any given second.

They pulled the rag from his eyes, and the last thing he saw before his head was being thrust into water, was the murky reflection of his bloody, torn face.

"All the water you can drink _and_ a bath. Hard to beat that-…" He cockily remarked just as they pushed his head down into the confines of an underwater prison.

This was definitely how he was going to die. Lungs burning and crying for air. His head beginning to throb and a smile across his face.

This wasn't hard. It wasn't as hard to let go. as he thought it'd be.

It wasn't hard to just…die.

There was a voice in his head, telling him to give and die. Telling him everything would brighter, better, happier, on the other side. He had assured himself by this point, that they people he'd led through Afghani gun fire in an attempt to free them from their previous crimes, were all dead. They'd killed them. Why keep them, if they had him? The highest-ranking officer.

Yes, obviously, they were dead.

They pulled him from the water, when he was so sure he was on the brink of death, and despite his heart's desire to just die, his brain forced his lungs into taking a few deep breaths.

He'd have to start dying all over again.

He had tears threatening to start rushing down his face, at least they'd be disguised by the water droplets if they happened to fall. The man took hold of his neck a little tighter, thrusting him down into the water again as his body, on it's own, began to thrash against the confines.

But this wasn't the way the Saint's should go out. With their leader's face full of tears, and aching lungs. He wouldn't be put down like this. Like a runt pup.

He couldn't.

Wasn't he the invincible Jack Taylor? Their boss? Their leader? Their commander?

Yes, he _fucking _was!

A power rose in him and he thrust himself backwards against the man who held him, pushing him against the wall until the all-too familiar sound of cocked guns made it's way to his ear-drums.

"Shoot me then! You won't, you bunch of pansies! Why? Because _I _have the location. And…_no one _else does. Yeah, that's right. I know it, alright. But I was the _only _one they told."

"That makes no sense. If we killed you, we'd find another. Some work, it would take, yes. But we would-"

"No. No, see, that's where _you're _wrong." Jack replied, his voice containing a finessing ferocity that he wouldn't have dared tried to search for earlier.

After a second or two of silence, the leader of the terrorist ring relented with a failing triumph.

"Why?"

"I'm the best. I'm the best in my rank and they figured if I was ever caught in some terrorist trap, I could escape without giving away the location."

"But I have caught you, successfully, and I have tortured you, successfully."

"But are you willing to kill the only man within your reach who has your brother's location? Anyone else is out of the question of you ever reaching."

"Nice point." He replied, his broken English bringing a smile to Jack's lips, "…however my _torture _will not kill you. It will break you…" He leaned in closer, his breath finding his right nostril and his hot breath brushing his ear, "…until you are convinced you are powerless."

He paused, backing away and with a final hoorah, he called out, "Because it's what you are, _Mr. Taylor_! You are not Jack Taylor, no more. You are _my _prisoner. You are _hopeless_. You are _powerless!_"

A few cheers were given out, but apparently his captivator silenced them and he took Jack by the shoulder, "You have saved your own life, perhaps, but your reckless behavior will not go unnoted. You will _have _to be punished."

"Mate? Mate, let me strike a deal with you here. I _will _give you your brother's location. But…don't hurt my…comrades, my squad-mates. Comprendé?"

"There is no dealing with _me_. Your friends are safe for now, they are not harmed. I will keep them this way because when you _do _give me my brother's location, I will kill the black and big one, and I will keep the women…as my pets. My men get…needy? You may say?"

"What makes you think I'd give you the location now?"

He gave a sigh, "You do not understand true pain. You will, by the time I'm done with you. You'll understand what it means to accept death, to _beg _for death, and _then _you will understand pain. And this leads to your punishment…for your violence."

He grabbed Jack by the shoulder, and something poked him in the back.

He could guess very well, that it was a gun.


	3. Rainbows

**3**

* * *

_10 Minutes Ago_

* * *

Jack breathed harder as he felt something cushy beneath his cheek, he wanted to laugh but if he did, he'd be scared of the voice he'd hear. Would it sound…_different_ now? Would it be dark? It wouldn't be cheerful, hew knew that, because he was beginning to understand what was coming next.

It took his groggy mind a second to full understand what was happening, but thinking back on the events leading up to the presence of a bed, was the undressing of him by another person and a quick stab to the arm with a needle, or at least he'd like to believe that's what had stuck him.

His ties were released, but weren't free for very long, hurriedly the man he couldn't see, was tying his hands to the bed frame and his feet to the other end.

His breath drew faster and he swallowed when he felt him on top of him, a warm body so close to his own naked one, whispering foreign words to him as though to comfort him from his fear.

Fuck, this was sick.

* * *

"….Somewhere over the rainbow….way up high. And, the dreams that you dream of once in a lullaby…somewhere, over the rainbow, blue birds fly. And, the dreams that you dream of…"

Jack tried to let out another scream.

The man dug his nails deeper into his sides, and Jack gripped the sheets with as much of his strength he could. Bile was churning in his stomach, and he wondered if there was any worse of a punishment they could dish out if he puked right now. Just puked…everywhere.

He also wondered, if God would be forgiving of him not picking up the bible every once in a while and would hear him if he prayed for ignorance.

If he could grant him infinite denial.

Or at least pump some more drugs in his system.

The room was whirling around him, but the pain was there and the realization that someone was doing _this _to him, was very very real, very raw, in his mind. In his state, there was no denying the binds around his wrist connecting him to the brass bed-frame, and the gag in his mouth that he screamed into when things got too painful.

At least the music he put on would allow him some form of distraction.

But it was taunting more than soothing.

He couldn't escape to whatever paradise the singer had been in. Even when he imagined a lonely beach in Hawaii, he was still in the sand, hog-tied, and the man was still…

He couldn't bring himself to even think of the word.

He'd never imagined that-…_this_happening to him. He was too tough, too…

God, he was defenseless.

He let out another scream, and thought for sure that this time might be the time he'd finally be able to pass out from the pain and hopefully, just maybe, die.

"Dreams really do come true…Someday I wish upon a star, wake up where the clouds are far behind…Where troubles melt like lemonade drops, high above the chimney top, that's where you find me…"

Finally, he couldn't hold them back anymore. This was degrading, horrifying, disgusting.

Tears rushed down his face, staining the mattress in huge pools. He took a shaky breath, and in-between the screams, he'd cry again.

This time, there was no water pouring down his face to save the embarrassment, but at least there was darkness.


	4. Grateful

**4**

* * *

What happened to him?

How much time had passed?

His eyes opened, and he breathed. His head was swimming, and somehow, the darkness was like a whirlpool of _colors_.

Birght, obnoxious, _colors_.

"Fuck.."

He looked around.

Who said that?

Had that been-…him?

That wasn't how he usually said…

He'd been right not to laugh before, he'd been right to be a mute. He shouldn't have said anything _now_.

His voice was broken up and lost.

It didn't contain any psychopathic joy, or even outrage. It was just a void, hollow sound. Like an infants scream, it was a pointless noise.

The door opened across from his position and the bright light felt like needles piercing his eyes. He threw his hands up before himself in defense, backing away into the wall, pressing himself against it as tight as he possibly could.

Images of the room and the mattress came back to him and his heart rate quickened. What if they wanted to do _that _again?

Oh God, he wouldn't be able to take it.

"Not again…" He whispered.

"You have been out for three days." The voice started, "I am no cruel man. I've let you sleep. Now I want to know how you feel about-"

"You're a sick man!"

"….Excuse me? Have we not learned our lesson?"

There was empty silence.

"Alright then. Guards, take him back to Jayif."

"N-No! No! Wait."

"So, now you're ready?"

"N-No. Not _yet_."

He rubbed a hand through his hair, "My patience grows _thin_. What do you want? I will not wait much longer. More drugs?"

"No, just…" He took a breath, it hurt to talk. Mentally, he felt his brain dying in fear. He was convulsing like a little bitch, and he couldn't figure out how to stop it.

He couldn't decide if he should pin fault on the drugs that he'd shot him up with for three possible days, or was it that his captor delivered his promise to break him? Maybe he was beginning to crack.

It was more comforting to blame the drugs.

"…fucking drugs…" he whispered, trying to hold his vibrating arm against his side, attempting to regain any control possible, "I just want to see my ga-…_comrades_ one last time. Please, if your brother was going to die tomorrow, wouldn't you-"

"Enough." He cut him off quickly, though his voice matched Jack's now and he nodded to his men, saying a few words that he couldn't understand.

"You will see your _'comrades'. _I am not unfair, yes? I let you see them, for one day only, twenty-four hours, and then you give me location. Yes?"

"Yes. Yes, thank you…"

His own words caught him off guard. Thanking his captor was a new one.

The man snapped his fingers and some kind of material was thrown to him.

"Quickly."

Jack picked it up softly, realizing then, it was clothes…and he was still naked.

He pulled the boxers on quickly, and then the dress-pants over, slipping his arms through the dress shirt, he didn't take the time to button it.

He rolled the sleeves up in a sloppy uneven mess and the leader took him by the back of the neck, tying the cloth back around his eyes, tighter than he had any other time before.

He pushed him ahead, and he attempted walking as best he could.

It was a slow walk, constantly stumbling over his own feet, he'd balance himself by leaning against the wall, taking a breath or two before being urged on by the tip of a gun.

"Go." They'd say.

And he'd bumble along a little ways again.

Barefoot and his feet bleeding from his clumsiness, he tried to distract himself with the bloody footprints he was leaving.

He'd always felt like he was one ahead, like he had power up his sleeve. Even when he didn't, he held steadfast with hope on the nature of faith in himself and in his gang.

Now, everything had been taken from him, stripped from him, and they really did have him. They really had him and there was no questioning his helpless situation.

He wondered if maybe…if he went back….

"We're here."

Jack stopped cold in his tracks, and a man stepped forward, his breathing ragged. A door opened, he heard it squeak, but there was still silence, and someone was removing his blindfold.

Fear drained him of his energy. Would he be faced with his dead gang when he opened his eyes? The blind fold came off, and instead, he was faced with an empty room, and men behind him were tying him up again.

He searched for a bed first, would this be a repeat of the last time?

There wasn't one.

"What're you-.."

"You're un….gratefulness has not gone unnoticed. I let you sleep for three days. You do not find this extraordinarily patient of a man awaiting his brother's return? I have patience, I know my brother is still alive. The Americans want information out of him as well. He will not give it up, and so, I know he is alive and will remain alive. American's may be…stupid…_but_…" He smiled a little, pushing him deeper into the darkness of the room. "…not _so _stupid."

Jack took a breath, "I…I'm grateful!"

"It is too late. You _must _be punished, and truly, I am disappointed. I see improvement in your behavior, though, you have much to learn about _respect, _American."

"No more drugs, please…if nothing else, no more fucking drugs!"

"Do not tell me what comforts you shall have! I am glad to see you _do_ want this torment to _mean _something though. You don't wish this to be comfortable, I understand. You feel guilty, yes?"

Was it worth yelling? No.

"So…your punishment, will be staying _awake _for three days. You do not appreciate the sleep? It is fine. I take it back."

He strapped something cold around his neck, "Lift your head. Drop it down, and this fork will pierce your throat and chest."

Jack allowed his head to dip down ever so slightly, and found it was true. He hissed in pain.

His kidnapper laughed, "So stupid. I tell you these things."

Next, he pushed him against a wall, undoing his binds once again, just to cuff him in shackles to the wall. Doing the same to his feet, he stood back to view over his work.

"I see you in three days. Jayif will come with food, and water."

"No! Wait-"

The door slammed.

"No…wait…"He repeated. "Just wait. Just wait and-…"

He closed his eyes slowly, "…I'm grateful…I'm so fucking grateful…."

* * *

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	5. Fahla

**5**

* * *

The first day, he was furious.

Kicking and shaking in the hands of Jayif who just so happened to let his hands roam around his body just a _little_ too long.

Food was stuffed in his mouth, he wondered if it gave Jayif any sexual gratification. He spit it out at him, and obviously offended, he poured the water on top of his head.

It was the only thing he wanted and Jayif knew it, that prick. He licked whatever droplets perched on his lips or dripped off his nose, but there was a little left in the glass, he noticed, and stared intently at it.

Jayif dumped it on the floor at his feet with a smirk on his face, such a simple move to make and he didn't even realize the deadly effects behind it.

Yet.

"Fuck you! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!"

Jayif simply laughed in his face.

Jack held back a growl, "You'll be the first one I fucking kill!"

He left, closing the door behind him, reminding him of the barrier that existed between him and _them_. Reminding him of the power that had been stricken of him as soon as he'd signed off on that contract for the pardons.

He thought back on that, his eyes still searching the door with exhausting amounts of regret building inside of him.

Was _anyone _looking for them? Notorious gang bangers with a criminal records as long and heinous as the Empire State Building?

Of course not, who gave a shit about that?

Who gave a shit about people like him? Because when you'd done so much, that was made to look worse than it was by the media, who could possibly take into account that they were all just brain washed zombies, programmed to believe The Saints were bad?

That Jane whats-her-fucking-face was just some vile animal feeding off the hate people generated against the people she talked against.

But she didn't have any clue what they were really fighting on the streets. If the Saints weren't there, cleaning up the streets of disgusting scum like the sex trafficking Morning Star, they'd have a lot more issues to be dealing with than just the weekly disturbances.

People were clueless.

But that's _obviously _what they were.

Some people knew, but some people just wanted to be against the mainstream. He'd say ninety percent of his fan base consisted of teens who just wanted to be different, while another ten percent could be accounted for truly understanding their motives. Truly understanding what they stood for and what they fought against.

Sure, they weren't superheroes in beautifully glistening armor. They liked the occasional stripper or whore, they liked guns and blowing shit up, but who didn't? No one was perfect. Everyone liked a little violence, some were just too prude and proud to admit their primal love for blood, guts, and gore.

When the police felt helpless or were playing dirty, the Saints came in. But the police would never allow it to seem like vigilantes were better than _them, _so of _course_ they'd follow in high-tailing pursuit.

They, the general public, didn't know that the Saints were real people. They were mortal people who suffered in life just as much as anyone, if not more. Didn't anyone think about the life of a gangster? What it took to get there? They weren't given the same opportunities, and shit, they'd _all _had rough childhoods.

With Shaundi's neglectful mother and drunk father.

Pierce's abusive older brothers.

And there was Viola's_ always_ busy parents, too caught up in a world of business to pay attention to their twins.

Oleg's childhood had been spent entirely on him becoming the best KGB agent in Russia, when all he ever wanted to be, was the best_ scientist_ of Russia. His parent's had gone so far as to even sell him off to a bunch of trainers.

And Kinzie claimed her entire family lineage consisted of geniuses. Whether they be musical savants of the classical arts, or mathematicians of the highest order, she'd been pressured into a world of MIT jerks and FBI protocoling douchebags.

Even she, a law person herself, could see the light at the end of the tunnel when it came to the Saints.

Because they _were _the light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe they were a grayish purple light, but hey, it was better than darkness.

All of them had rough starts, but in Jack's eyes, they became something to be proud of. But the rest of the world saw them as evil serial killers, always plotting their next move.

It wasn't until they saved a landmark that they were appreciated in the slightest degree by thousands upon thousands of people.

But hell, he accepted it'd be a start to opening the eyes of America.

But a start wasn't enough to send a task force on the deadly mission of rescuing a few miscreants.

No, they weren't worth that much yet.

It was up to him, and as it appeared so far, the future was bleak.

* * *

The second day, his eyes were half-lidded and he had to keep a constant jog of thoughts flowing through his head to prevent himself from nodding off.

His neck was in pain, and he did little to struggle against Jayif's hands and the food being pushed into his mouth. And this time, he rewarded him with the small cup of water. He figured it was just enough to keep him hydrated to not die.

"What'm I supposed to do 'bout peeing?" He whispered.

Jayif looked to him with half a smile and a cunning look in his eyes. He nodded and walked towards him slowly. Jack wouldn't have asked _him _of all people, but he only got to see _one _person everyday and only _once _a day.

The man unzipped his pants, and Jack's lips shivered at the touch but at least, he was able to go.

"Need to go shit?"

"No, thanks, mate.."

He'd make sure to be grateful. Grateful always. Always grateful.

Jayif looked snakily at him with a smile still on his chapped lips, zipping him back up, and turned away, walking through the door, and closing it. Covering him again, into a world of darkness and blank, empty, repetitive thoughts of how his girls, Shaundi, Kinizie, and Viola, were doing. Which were met by how Pierce and Oleg were possibly doing.

He imagined them trying to create some sort of break-out plan, but met with horrifying results when they were rendered defenseless against the many terrorists guarding their…perhaps cell, or room?

Maybe they were each being kept separate to prevent socialization.

Maybe they were being tortured just as much as he was.

He didn't even flinch at this.

At least one of these things was an inevitability he'd have to face.

A sickness was tying in knots in his stomach, his abdomen muscles clenching together.

Or maybe he'd never _get _to face it.

* * *

The third day, Jayif did not come into the cell, and momentarily he was assured no one else was ever going to come in there. Maybe they'd found another operative of his rank or higher who actually _did _know something and was giving it up like a fucking pansy.

No, he wouldn't blame them. he couldn't. He honestly hoped they'd spare the soldier.

These were thoughts that the public would never guess crossed the Saint's leader's mind.

They probably think he ran away in an elaborate ruse to escape from US government or some concocted shit by the media.

Soon, however, the door opened and Jack's mind was drawing blanks at every turn. He drifted in and out of the man's words, but managed to fill the gaps enough to know what he was saying.

At first, the man just sighed, dragging a wooden stool behind himself as his men propped the door open and held their hands on a pistol that was wedged between their pants and skin. Just waiting for Jack to make a wrong move, or say the wrong thing.

"Jack Taylor, I figure as it is third day and you are doing nothing but hanging there, we should talk. We should, maybe, get to know one another."

Jack didn't answer, but looked down at him from his lifted head.

"Do you think so?"

"Okay, sure. Yes." He agreed quickly, he'd never anger the man again if it had to be this way every time he pissed him off. He wasn't so sure how much more he could take of this constant seedy torture.

"Good. I know your name. You do not know mine." He paused, sitting down onto the stool with a heaved sigh, "My name is Fahla Sharaf. It means honor and success to my people. Your name is Jack Taylor. What does this mean?"

Jack shook his breath, "We don't really name people for the meaning." "Meaning. Meaning is irrelevant…_irrelevant._" He rambled in his sleep deprived delirium, "I don't know the meaning of Jack…or, or…Taylor either, really."

He smiled, a look of pity in his eyes, "Your people lack a sense of respectability and culture. It is sad to witness the death of culture, especially within my people. Your western ways influence, and kill."

"I…" Jack was at a loss for words, and decided to look at the man in the eye, "Sorry…I'm sorry, I wasn't grateful before."

"Yes. Good. I'll be back to let you out of your confines in the morning."

"After…After letting me out…"

"I let you see your friends. For one day only. Twenty-four hours. Then you tell me location, or something more drastic will begin to happen."

"Okay. Yes, sir. Thank you."

"Jayif will come with food in little while." Falah commented, changing the subject. "I have read that American's drink different water. Our water is more pure to it's natural state. You drink fake water with no substance. Are you sick?"

"No."

"If you are sick, we have a doctor."

"Thank you, not sick."

Silence stretched between them, and the door opened behind them, Jayif coming in with a plate of stale bread and a small cup of water.

Fahla stood, looking to Jayif and said something Jack didn't bother listening to. He knew it'd be something he couldn't understand or didn't want to, so he hung there helplessly, looking at the face of his enemies. Fahla came back with the plate, "I will feed you. Jayif has other things to do."

He brought the bread to Jack's mouth, and Jack opened quickly so as to not offend him. He dropped the bread in his mouth, "When I was younger, all we had was bread to eat." Fahla said quietly, dropping another piece into his mouth and waiting for him to chew.

"We were very poor family, that is why my Father named me honor and success, to hopefully bring the luck on me. I now eat like a king every night, and I give back to my family everything they went without. We are no jokes anymore to the village peoples."

"I understand. Having nothing." Jack replied, and Fahla looked to him almost disgust, had he said the wrong thing?

"Your people are born with opportunities and freedoms."

A moment of clarity hit him and he looked up, shaking his head while avoiding the fork beneath his chin.

"Not always. Everywhere I went, people recognized me as my Dad's son, and everyone…they couldn't stand my father. When I left my home in Australia, I had nothing and people treated me like shit there too because I was _foreign_. _Foreign._ Many American's feel like _foreigners_ are a problem. _I_ was the problem in _their _country, and to this day, I still don't fit in."

Fahla stopped momentarily, searching his eyes as if to beseech true in an ocean of lies. "This is true?"

"Yes."

He tipped the glass of water to his lips.

He brought the glass away and Jack swallowed, "Thank you."

Fahla looked to him, his mouth parted and eyebrows pressing downwards as though he needed to say something. He stood in silence like this for a second, and then breathed, looking towards Jack's cuffs on the walls.

"I had a son once." Fahla finally related.

Jack said nothing.

"I brought pride to him, and he brought pride to me. He was a strong soldier."

"Was."

"Yes, was. He died for a noble cause."

"I'm sorry."

"Why? It is not his death that should bring me sorrow. He died with honor, and I am happy my son died this way. Not many get the honor."

He turned, holding the stool, and left into the arch of light, closing the door behind himself.

And once again, Jack was left into the darkness.

Thoughts flooded through his head again, but they were jumbled. His brain pounded against the walls of his head and his eyes rolled around in their sockets, unable to find a comfortable position.

Random memories seemed to come to mind.

Those of his father and mother, fighting again over the phone and then his Mom taking a long snort of coke.

The particularly painful one of his mother being shot in the head by a drive-by.

The one where he kneeled by his bed and prayed to God to not let him become a gang banger like his father.

The one where his Dad finally taught him something: God doesn't exist.

The one where he finally accepted his father's words of wisdom and dropped his bible off the side of a bridge after a Sunday morning wasted in church.

And at a point, he forgot where he was.

Those were the happiest hours of his existence in that miserable cave.

* * *

**Hello, Readers! Again, I don't usually do Author Notes, but I wanted to say a couple things again. **

**1) THANK YOU to lchloe23ORcl for such an AWESOME review- and she brought up a really good point! (See below!)**

**2) THE GANG will be making their appearance NEXT CHAPTER. I didn't stick them into the next chapter at the last minute or anything like that, they were honest to God planned to be in the next chapter, and I thought I should mention it to anyone who was straying because they thought that maybe it'd be a while before they'd be seeing the gang. I know all of my Pierce-Lovers(or haters…) and Shaundi-Supporters want to get on with it and see their favorite character in action, but I promise, NEXT CHAPTER it's going to get….goooooood…..**

**See you next time, and remember, a word or two of encouragement is truly LOVED. Reviews are so GREATLY appreciated, whether they be today or a year from now, I'll love them to pieces!**

**Ciao!**


	6. I Am This Time (The Gang Is Back)

**6**

* * *

"It's a good day for singing a song and it's a good day for moving along. Yes it's a good day, how could anything be wrong? It's good day from morning to night."

Jack's eyes fluttered open slowly to be met with a sort of light and a crick in his neck he couldn't quite place. He was on the floor, and though it was hard, it was inviting.

So how could he complain?

God, he was grateful.

"And it's a good day for shining your shoes, and it's a good day for losing the blues. Everything to gain and nothing to lose. Well, it's a good day from morning to night. I said to the sun, good morning sun, rise and shine today. You know, you gotta get going if you you're gonna make a showing."

He recognized the song, but wasn't positive if it was being played for his entertainment, to brighten his dull aching mood, or to mock his predicament.

In all honesty though, he couldn't remember a time when he was happier, a smile even came across his face and he laughed dryly into the air.

"Boss?"

Another voice? Or were those the same voices that had talked to him in the middle of the night while hanging against the cavern walls with a fork to his throat and sternum. Just another delusion?

He decided it was best not to encourage the hallucination, no matter how real they were becoming. It was best to try and blame it on detox from the drugs…or maybe he was pumped full of drugs right now. You never knew. It was wishful thinking, that he could blame it all on the terrorist's mind games, but he'd bank his full faith in it until he was proven wrong.

"Boss, you awake?"

His mouth turned upwards on one side.

They were intrusive little fuckers.

He opened his eyes, expecting to be met with the same darkness and the slit of light coming from the slit on the door across from him.

He expected to be sitting just below his former mounted prison cuffs, maybe he'd get up and try to estimate the size of the room just to keep his mind busy, but instead he was met with a half-illuminated room full of lanterns and a new sort of warmth he hadn't felt in days…or weeks? However long they'd been there.

And something else. People.

It didn't click at first, and then it did after just a few seconds. His brain was catching up, slowly, but surely, he pinpointed them with a name. Pierce, Shaundi, Oleg, Kinzie, Viola.

He took a breath, regretting it instantly as he let a couple of coughs and swallowed. He pushed himself to the left with a single hand.

"Boss, it's us." Shaundi reminded him, a hint of concern was in her hazel green eyes and the boss swallowed again.

Was it okay for him to talk now? His brain was fuzzy, mixing his memories with them, to his memories with Fahla. In his jumbled delusions, he was walking on thin ice.

His body shook slightly, and they could see his wavering face in the dim light look at each of them with something akin to fear, but they weren't positive if it was. After all, they'd never seen their cocky, invincible, boss show even the smallest sliver of cowardice.

"Shit, they beat you pretty bad…Worst they done to us is make us listen to some shitty ass records over and over." Pierce offered with a half-hearted laugh.

"Are you okay, friend?" Oleg stepped in, noticing Jack's anxiety was not changing. "We were glad to see you alive."

"They brought you in yesterday, but…you weren't exactly all there." Viola continued.

"I'm gonna kill those fuckers." Shaundi said defiantly, looking down to her bosses variety of scrapes, bruises and wounds.

"Yesterday?" Jack finally asked, and fear was definitely there.

"Yeah, that's right. We tried to get some answers out of those punk asses, I don't think they speak any damn English around here. We still don't know what the fu-."

"Yesterday? That-…That means…Twenty-four hours."

"Well, probably. _Almost_, anyway." Kinzie replied from somewhere he couldn't even see.

Pierce took a step forward, "Boss…Jack, look, you've been through…a lot, man. I'm not sure what they did to you but…"

"Twenty-four hours." He said again, but mainly, to himself it seemed. "Twenty-four hours and that's it…I haven't…It wasn't enough time…"

Jack looked back up at him, eyes wide and quivering. He shook his head and whispered sharply, "I don't have the fucking location, mate."

"What's he talking about?" Viola looked from him to Pierce, and when their faces dropped, so did hers. "Has he…gone…crazy?"

Shaundi bit her lip, but couldn't hold back her rage at Viola giving out so easily. Either that, or she was thinking the same thing and didn't want to admit it, "No!"

Jack was sitting criss-crossed now, his elbows on his knees and head in his hands. "Not enough time to plan."

"What did they do to you, man?" Pierce murmured looking down pitifully to Jack as he blinked back something. It must've been something in his eye because Pierce Washington never got the urge to cry.

"It could be infection causing his brain to go haywire, or a fever." Kinzie interjected through the emotional tragedy that was striking them each individually. She crawled around from behind Viola, slowly standing to her feet with shaky eyes that looked over Jack's body for any noticeable signs of infection.

"When I looked him over, while asleep, I did not see any infections." Oleg contributed.

"Well, it's worth a shot to look him over again, right?

"Yes, absolutely." Oleg nodded, "He _did _have many signs of illness, but those went away after the first six hours of sleep. I checked."

Kinzie walked up to stand in front of Jack, who didn't move from his position. And she bent down close to him. He noticed the presence and swallowed again, he looked up and watched her skillful eyes run over his body, and she smiled a little.

"I'm just gonna look you over, kay?"

He didn't respond, but looked beyond her. "It doesn't matter if you do, Kinzie. Not enough time. There wasn't enough _fucking _time. Gat told me there wouldn't be. Johnny said I didn't have enough time. I could've given up a long time ago, but _fucking _Gat told me to keep _fucking _going!"

Kinzie backed away a little at his sudden outburst.

"I failed the Saints." He groaned, putting a hand over his face, "Fucking failed them. Aisha, Johnny, Carlos. What a miserable, _fucked _up failure!"

"Don't say that." Shaundi whispered darkly, her voice picking up as she continued, "Don't ever say that. You…You were always there when things got tough. Always. You didn't leave like every other gang I was in. And, you know, not to get sentimental on you or anything boss, but you were always there for _me _too."

"Same here. Every other motherfucker I rolled with couldn't take the heat." Pierce continued, "One time, our boss used his own people as human shields. I won't forget the day I walked the hell out, it was like a weight lifted off my shoulders. I was seriously _scared _around that guy. I can depend on you, like a real brother. Not those bitches I grew up with, either."

"You saved me from becoming one of many of my selves and a lifetime of humiliation." Oleg continued down the line.

"You gave me reason." Kinzie whispered.

They looked towards Viola, and she couldn't bare to look at them, so she stared into the averting eyes of her new boss.

"You treated me like a _person_."

"And, " Pierce begun, "I'm sure that…whatever form of Gat you've been talking to, is gonna help us outta here. You're gonna be alright, Boss."

"But none of that _matters_." Jack replied, "Twenty-four hours. Fahla said twenty-four hours."

"Fahla? Who the fu-….And Twenty-four hours for _what_?" Pierce couldn't take this anymore and Jack's eyes moved back and forth, as if solving a puzzle piece by piece, connecting the missing links.

Jack swallowed, "I don't want to know."

A few moments of silence passed and the door opened slowly, Fahla stood there like a prized general, smiling down to Jack. "Ah, I see you are doing just fine."

"Woah, woah, you speak English? Then how 'bout we get some fucking answers up in this bitch, huh? Like, for starters, why the _fuck _we're here?"

He frowned and looked to Jack, "You did not tell your comrades?"

They looked from him to Jack's horror-stricken face and then back again.

"Well. It is no issue. He will be having more time, I must leave momentarily. When I get back, I will be expecting location. I am being generous, yes?"

"Y-Yes. Yes, thank you." Jack replied quickly, almost not believing the luck being bestowed on him.

"Spend wisely. I have told you what happens after you tell me the location."

"Yes sir, I will. No doubting that."

With that, he was gone and every person looked to him, awaiting any kind of explanation, and when he did give one immediately, Pierce wasn't going to wait.

"What the hell was that, Boss? Sir? _Sir? _More like dickhead! And what the fuck are you _thanking _him for? They brainwash you or something?"

"Pierce, lay off!" Shaundi defended, crossing her arms.

"Always be grateful." Jack said quietly, attempting to find enough strength to stand, he slipped against the rocky bottom but caught himself against the wall just in time. Shaundi and Kinzie stepped forward, putting a hand around his arm as he helped him get to his feet fully.

"What's he wanting? Something about a location?" Kinzie asked, attempting to move forward with the answers, she was beginning to feel the same sort of urgency as her boss when she felt the heat radiating off his body and the pulse beneath her finger tips.

"Location of his brother…he thinks I have it." Jack replied, leaning against the wall now as he put a rubbed an eye and regretted it just as he did, he seethed and touched it gingerly.

"Black eye." Kinzie said, "So, you've just been playing along? Why didn't you tell him you don't have it?"

"He doesn't believe me. I _did _tell him I don't have it. Then I figured I'd play along and trade the location for me being able to see you mates, I was hoping you had some kind of…plan? Or something?"

"The only one whose been outside this cell is you. We wouldn't know what to do even if we _did _break out of here." Viola interjected.

"We did _try _to create a plan but we didn't want to do anything until we knew about you. We didn't want to break out and then they try and kill you for us playing Rambo and all." Kinzie corrected.

"I don't know much. I know we're in a cave and that's it. They blindfolded me when-…" He paused and turned his eyes to the door that was beginning to open again, and there, standing in it, was Jayif, smiling to him like a little school girl eyeing her crush.

He said a few things he couldn't understand, but he eyed the people behind him, all with loaded gun standing against the cave wall opposite to the door, just waiting for any behavior gone awry.

"I know where are you now." He said suddenly and Jack swallowed, nervously, his eyes moving back from him Jayif to the guards behind him at alert. "Fahla not here. I in charge."

"I know. Congratulations, mate."

Sarcasm was obvious, but barely there compared to his usual biting undertone.

Jayif frowned, shrugged and raised his eyebrows towards the others in the cell, then he turned back to Jack and laughed a little, "I like you best."

Then he shut the door and Jack took a breath after having held it for so long, "It's hopeless. There's too many fucking guards. We-…" He slid down the side of the cavern wall, "When Fahla comes back, I'll tell him that I'll tell him the location, but only in private because I know he'll kill me after I tell him I don't even have it. You don't want to see that, hopefully. Start yelling or something after I leave, get a guard to come in here. Take his gun and just start killing. Get out."

"You'll meet up with us somewhere, then?"

"No. I won't be able to. I'm just going to let Fahla kill me."

There was dead silence, the blunt emptiness in his voice and his cold eyes almost scared Jack, himself. But it was beginning to seem more and more inviting to just give in. Save the Saints and go down like a man.

"Who will be the new leader of the Saints? What is your final wish?"

"Oleg! Man, what the _fuck_? We ain't letting our boy here kill himself!" Pierce scolded the giant and Oleg shook his head.

"If it is what must be done, it is so. If it is what Jack wants, we can't question it. It's only logical. It is not that I wish to see Jack die. Jack is my friend just as much as he is yours."

"If that were true, you'd be thinking of another plan like I am right now. Because _that _ain't fucking happening."

"Viola. Viola, I want you to be the new leader."

"Wait…What? Me?"

"Her?" Shaundi was baffled, hands on her hips. "I mean, I'm not letting you go through with that plan anyway, but if came down to it….you'd pick _her_?"

"You're too hot-headed, Shaundi, see? Pierce would just be throwing parties all the time. Oleg's too logical. Kinzie, no offense, but you're not very good with a gun. Viola's rational, has had experience. It's just the logical answer."

"Well, I'm flattered and all…"Viola trailed off suddenly and shook her head, "But none of us are letting you give up like this."

"Yeah, what the hell happened to my boss, anyway? You don't give up." Pierce attempted to pep talk his way into changing Jack's mind but Jack just shook his head.

"I am this time."


	7. Days Gone By

**7**

* * *

_Around A Week Ago_

_Exact Amount of Days Are __Unknown_

* * *

The scene was hauntingly familiar, except with Pierce instead of Gat being beside her, and an additional three in the background.

She remembered that cold jail cell that seemed to be from forever ago, when she watched Johnny's temple move up and down as he bit the inside of his cheek and rubbed his thumb against the side of his index finger.

And they wondered what was taking so long with throwing their boss in their with them too. Were they questioning him? Keeping him separated from them?

"Damn it." Shaundi murmured beneath her breath, sitting up and rubbing her sore and possibly bruised arm. "Fucking assholes."

Oleg sat on the bed, his chin resting on his fist and glaring at the ground.

"I'm sorry, Oleg." Kinzie murmured.

"No, it is not your fault." Oleg shook his head, "I would have…I could have saved everyone if they had not had you dangling by an arm and a gun to your head, but it is not your fault. It is mine."

"Given the circumstances, it was most likely impossible for you to cover the much space compared to time to get to me."

Oleg didn't seem convinced.

"Can we agree to disagree on whose fault it is, then?"

Oleg smiled a little, "Yes, though it is not exactly logical."

"What's not logical is that we haven't started coming up with a way to put a hole in these pieces of shit." Shaundi interrupted, standing up now and leaning against the side of a wall, "And where's the boss? They got him too, didn't they?"

"I saw them take him a separate way through my blindfold." Oleg replied.

"We gotta get outta here and find him."

"Chill girl, they ain't hurting us and they'll probably put him in here in just a minute or two. We should wait a second and at least come up with some kind of plan before we start a damn war with them."

"Fuck plans! It wasn't _planned _for us to get kidnapped, so I'm not gonna _plan _their death."

"Look, it wasn't planned for Johnny to die either, but we _did _plan on how to get back at the cock suckers who did it. And we got them back, didn't we? Boss wouldn't want us to run out of here like warriors and get killed."

Shaundi took a couple of angry breath but managed to slowly sit down beside Oleg, the mentioning of Johnny always seemed to work with any given example in any situation.

"Fine."

* * *

"We can't just sit around here!" Shaundi yelled in the middle of one of Oleg's ramblings on the ratio of success compared to their attempts at escape. "We haven't heard _anything _about the Boss, we don't even know what were doing here. _They _might be planning _our _deaths for all we know! Boss could be _dead_ for all we know!"

There was a pause as the door opened and they all turned to see a man, carrying some sort of electronic device, behind him there were two other men with shotguns pointed towards them. The man slowly walked in and set it down in the corner of the room.

"Hey, what the fuck we doing here?" Pierce yelled and the men with the shotguns aimed the guns to him.

Pierce bit his lip, a little stunned and Shaundi hit him lightly on his lower arm with the back of her hand.

What she was trying to gesture at, he wouldn't ever really know, but he figured it was probably a warning for him to stop knowing that he, many times, would cross the line, over and over.

The man placed a tape in the tape player and a song came on, something happy and warm, and Kinzie looked at in a disgruntled sort of way. She reach down to turn it off as the man begun to leave and the other men pumped their guns, aiming it at her head.

She slowly pulled her arm away and in the air. "Sorry."

They lowered the shotguns and left the room, and no one dared to touch it again.

Shaundi didn't say another word the whole day.

* * *

"I think I'm going through withdrawal.." Kinzie murmured, her hands shaking ontop of her knees.

"Didn't know you were on drugs." Pierce said half-heatedly, he had to keep humor involved somehow, or he knew he'd go crazy.

Those words were the start of the first conversation of the day, and if he thought pretty hard about it, it was probably somewhere between twelve and three in the afternoon.

But that was just a guess.

The point was, no one had said a word all morning, they were keeping to themselves, thinking over and over again the events that brought them there.

Some were blaming themselves, some were trying to figure out if there was any possible way they could've seen the impending attack on them or guessed it was going to happen.

They'd almost given up on formulating a plan of escape when there possibly four or more guards with rifles pointed towards the cell. Just waiting.

"I wasn't and…I'm not." Kinzie replied, "The last time I had a computer was…when was it?" Kinzie trailed off back into her thoughts.

The truth was, the last time she had a computer, was just before they closed in on the terrorist hideout they were going to raid like her favorite movie characters, storm troopers. Of course, she had her part in the mission just as everyone else did, and was relieved that it seemed fairly simplistic.

She'd tapped into their security cameras that surrounded the outside of the main entrance and was searching for any form of lifeforms. Human or not. Kinzie sorely remembered from her FBI days of attack dogs.

Soon enough, Jack, Pierce and Shaundi would follow up behind Oleg who would be the first to go crashing through the old '80s cars that surrounded the main entrance, and then through the door.

Soon after that was when everything went down hill, they hadn't been expecting the enemy to be any of the wiser. What they hadn't expected was for the enemy to be surrounding the entire area, a radius Kinzie could not pick up through the security cameras, and had quickly narrowed in.

Within seconds, Kinzie Kensington had been forced out of the back seat of the van by her throat and a pistol. Destroying her computer, they lifted her up and put the gun to her temple and he screamed out, "Stop!"as he brought her before the battling gang against the some thirty perhaps terrorists.

No one seemed to see her there, dangling in mid-air with a gun to her head, so he cocked it and said again, "Stop or she dies!"

The gunshots died down, and a whimper escaped from her even though she attempted to hold it back. Would this be her end? Messing up and not seeing them was all her fault, so maybe she was going to pay the price for it this time.

She was shaking in his fists, and Oleg dropped the man he had been about to crush with a single hand.

"That is right. Calm. My men will just put blindfolds on your faces now." His English wasn't perfect, but certainly understandable.

Kinzie sucked in a breath just as he set her down, the gun still to her head, and she watched as the men in the sandy dunes wrapped cloths around their faces. Guilt needled it's way into her heart and the man who had held her now, the man who had complete power over her life, wrapped a cloth around her eyes too.

The last English words she heard were, "Who is the highest rank here?"

And Jack shouted out, "Me. These are my men…and…woman."

From there, everything was black and jumbled in a language she couldn't decode, because her computer was destroyed and her mind was sprinting as fast as her high speed connections.

_That _was the last time she'd had a computer.

* * *

Shaundi sat up straight, letting out a deep breath of air as she gasped in the dim light. She looked around, wiping a cold line of sweat away from her stray pieces of hair. She pushed a piece behind her ear and swallowed, "…shit…"

"You okay?"

She turned, a breath escaping from her lungs, as she looked at Pierce who had one knee up to his face and the other lying flat on the ground. He was shaking his foot back and forth in a sort of metronome style.

She looked to the other sleeping figures and back to him, "I thought you were asleep."

"Nah. I'm not exactly tired when all I've been doing all damn day is sitting around."

She was silent for a second and then came back, "I wish…I know that there isn't anything but I just wish…"

"There was something we could do? We all do. But there isn't anything right now. We're completely…useless, ya' know?"

"Somewhere, over the rainbow…" The music trilled on and Shaundi rolled her eyes, looking back at the tape player.

"I really wish I could just destroy that fucking thing."

Pierce smiled a little, "Girl, you got anger problems."

"Whatever."

"You wanna talk about your dream?"

"…More like nightmare, and…no."

Pierce shrugged, "Hey, I'll tell you about mine."

"You had one too?"

"Why do you think I'm awake?"

"I thought you said you weren't tired."

"I'm not. Doesn't mean I didn't _try _to sleep."

"Go ahead then."

"Well, see, in mine. We were taking out those terrorists again. Only this time, Kinzie died. You died. Oleg died. Viola died. Boss died. I was the only one alive, and suddenly the _whole_ gang was there. _Everyone _died. No matter how much motherfuckers I put a hole in, I was the only Saint left, then, I was the only _person _alive."

Shaundi was listening intently, her eyes watched his evading ones and a smirk crept on his face after a pause.

"But luckily, an invasion of super sonic aliens took over the Earth and everything turned out for the best."

She laughed slightly, putting a hand to her mouth to stifle them, not wanting to wake anyone.

"Hey, there's the old Shaundi." Pierce whispered softly, and she looked back to him, her eyes were shining, but maybe his tired mind was deceiving him. "I remember the old Shaundi. Man, she was a lot of fun. A bitch, but hey, she was great to smoke up with. She was great to drink with. She wasn't too great with a gun, but she had the connections. She had info at her fingertips, way more than that pussy Matt Miller."

She cocked her head, smiling distantly, and she looked away. Some scuffling caught her attention and she watched as Pierce, dressed head to toe in his fatigues got up out of the corner. She thought for just a second, how handsome he looked in them.

Not in that gangster white suit and bling, he was in something maybe not exactly normal, but it was a hell lot more Pierce than that other get-up.

But maybe that was just her hostage-state-of-mind talking.

"I remember the old Pierce. Just some nobody."

He frowned.

"Maybe not as happy either, but he was genuine. Not tricked out in Saints Flow commercials."

He sat beside her, and they took the same slumped posture.

"The new Shaundi needs more weed."

"The new Pierce should stop wearing that white suit get-up."

They smiled at each other, and it was quiet but it wasn't awkward. They both felt a little more comforted by the fact that there was someone there, feeling the same pain as the other.

"My dream..? It was about Johnny. I know it shouldn't be important right now…and I _should've _gotten over it a long time ago, but.."

"No, no, hey. Shaundi…" He trailed off a little, "Shaundi, look girl." He looked in her eyes, and it would mark the first time that Pierce had been so serious with her, "All your life, maybe guy's have been dicks to you. But you don't have to pull off any kinda tough act for _me '_cause it still hurts me too. Man, Gat was _my _friend too. Every time I see a picture of him, every time his name comes up, I still hurt. It's always gonna hurt. You ain't human unless it does."

She let out a breath, and her once shaking nerves looked calm now.

"So what was your dream about? Johnny…dying?"

"No. No, I know that it seems crazy but it didn't even feel like a dream. I was laying there and I swore I heard his voice. I thought I heard him…I don't want you to think I'm crazy."

Pierce frowned and nodded a little, "I went through that same thing. Not with Gat, but when I was a teenager, I told you about my older brothers. Always beating me up in front of their gang member friends.. Well anyways, the only place I could go to get away from all those assholes was my grandma's house. Seems kinda babyish and dumb maybe, but God damn, I loved her like a mother. When she died, it was like the only person I ever actually…_loved_…was just suddenly taken from me. For years, I thought I heard her when it was pretty obviously silent. I'd be in my apartment, chilling at night, and then I'd hear her yelling at me for it being such a damn mess. What I'm getting at is that it's normal."

"Did it ever go away?"

"Completely? No, not really. When I'm out there with a pistol, battling out some bitches, sometimes I hear her in my head. It's just things she used to say all the time, and it's kinda random, but she's always been the person to keep me going."

Pierce went on to tell a story about a time when his grandmother's beloved Cat, Queeny, accidentally got left outside in the rain and he ran at least two miles, chasing it in the middle of a thunderstorm. Not because anyone asked him to, but because he'd do anything for his grandmother.

Shaundi quietly and peacefully fell back to sleep, listening to his extortion of just how harsh the rain was. How it was coming in horizontally at thirty mile per hour winds and left his face cut up.

He smiled at her sleeping form, and silently mused over staying there beside her. Sleeping right there next to her.

He retreated back to his dark corner.

* * *

Oleg didn't contribute to the formations of a new plan that was occurring there before him, he knew it was against his nature to be thinking about something as unimportant as _love_, but he couldn't help it.

If these were his last moments, in this room with peaceful music and a rowdy and to be honest, rather motley, crew of gangsters, what would he want to do most?

He'd want to confess his forbidden love for Kinzie Kensington, but he couldn't.

The normal person would look at him like he was crazy for describing his secret crush on the ex-FBI agent as _forbidden, _they might even call him melodramatic, but with his background, with his prior list of morals, he found it impossible to describe his affection for the girl.

Yes, it was _logical _to find a connection with her, considering she was as much of an intellectual as he was and he enjoyed her company. But what wasn't logical was the primitive nature he felt around her, like a fire in him that encouraged him to kill whenever someone threatened her, hurt her, or even smirked at her wrongly. He wanted to make her _his_. Make her the happiest girl in the world.

And being through some of the toughest trainers in the world, that taught him love was just a foolish chemical that made you more human, thus more weak, it went against everything he stood for to just sit there like a love stricken moron and stare at her red hair and and cute little freckles dotting her face.

He'd never felt this way.

If there was one thing he could do before dying, he'd _want _to confess his love to Kinzie. But if it came down to it, he would never be able to.

* * *

Viola sat there, her same statue-like face staring at the same damn door.

"We need to break out. If we shut that tape off, a guard might come in. We could just steal his gun from there and start killing. Maybe it's a little savage, but it'll get the job done.."

"If we do that, where would we go?"Oleg countered.

"We could look for Jack, I guess. Considering they're probably not bringing him in here with us." She remarked sarcastically, but Kinzie shook her head.

"But, what if because we suddenly start acting like violent Neanderthals, they decide to kill him? Like, as punishment? it actually isn't uncommon for criminals to do drastic things on the spur of a moment to a prove a point power. And any possibility of killing him-"

"Should be accounted for, but what if we save him? What if get out of here alive and-"

"But what if we don't? Wait until we're a hundred percent sure we'll get outta here a alive. _All _of us." Pierce cut in.

Viola was silent again, simply sitting, waiting, and wishing.

Maybe he was already dead.

She scolded herself for that mentally and blinked, why was she such a pessimist?

She thought of every reason that she might be, until a door opened and there, standing in the door like a hallucination was Jack Taylor, bent over and shaking, his face was bloody and bruised, his clothes tattered and most certainly not the fatigues he walked in with.

"Boss." Shaundi murmured, "Boss, holy shit. Are you-…What the hell did they do to you…?"

He fell to his knees, and she rushed to his side, attempting to help him back to his feet, but Oleg stepped in. "No, he is exhausted."

Jack leaned over and eventually fell down flat onto the ground, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he finally closed his eyes.

Shaundi looked back up to see a man there with a thick beard, closing the door. She hadn't seen him before.

"You stupid assholes! You've _really _fucked up now!" She yelled, standing close to the door, about to continue until Pierce slowly pulled her away.

"C'mon Shaundi, we can't do anything about that right now, girl."

"God damn it, Pierce! Let me go!"

He pulled her back some more, and hesitantly, she attempted to rip from his embrace before finally taking a breath and letting it go. "God damn it, Pierce…" She said quieter now, "Just…Look what they did to him!"

"I know. I know, but he's gonna be okay. Look, Oleg's got him."

Oleg was slowly pulling his shirt off, examining the multitudes of scratches, cuts, and abrasions particularly around the wrists. "Rope…maybe chains as well."

He turned him over just enough to inspect his back and neck, "Scratches and cuts."

He eyed his chest and stomach warily however, "Those are some serious bruises…"

He looked down to his pants and thought at first, about taking his pant's off but decided he'd go against his morals some more and respect his privacy. He went down to his feet, and rolled his pants as high as possible.

"More abrasions to the ankles. Chains and ropes as well most likely…"

He lifted the top of his pants up, eyeing down at anything suspicious on his thighs. Finding nothing, he pulled away and smiled ever so slightly, "He will be okay. He is very tired. He should get some sleep."

Oleg was about to pick him and place him on the bed, and after a moments thought, set him against a wall,

"Better blood flow. Wake up soon, friend."

* * *

**A little lengthy as we reach towards the final battle ****…oop. Shouldn't have said anything! But the battle is near!**

**I put this in as a little break from the Boss, (Jack) and to let you know some of the things that happened while in that little room for a week or so. It wouldn't be exactly realistic if _nothing _happened while the boss was out, obviously. **

**So, here's just a couple of events that happened to each of them and then some. **

**Next chapter will feature less of the gang, more of the boss, but will have both, just to let you know. Also, it may or may not be a tear jerker for you and bring a smile to your face. Depends on how emotional you are, I guess, but I hope it does. :D**

**So, review if you have time, and thank you to those that always so kindly review! Critiques are APPRECIATED just as well as compliments!**

**So if you notice something TOTALLY off or could use a little tweaking in your opinion to make this story perfect, let me know.**

**Thanks guys, and I'll see you next time!**


	8. An Honorable Death

**8**

* * *

Jack watched the door open.

They all watched the door open.

None of them had slept through the night.

Not a single word had been spoken.

The only noise was another mocking song in the background, haunting them, reminding them that something much worse was about to happen. Reminding them of the people in Steelport and Stilwater who were going to work, coming home from work, kissing their wives tenderly on the top of the head and patting their child on the back. They'd sit down for dinner and smile, and their kid would kiss them both good night.

And this song, just gave them that perfect image. The perfect wholesome American family.

Something they'd never _had_.

Something they'd never _have_.

And God did it make them all just sick.

Shaundi had tears in her eyes, and she closed her eyes. Her nose crinkled as she attempted to swallow her anger, her hatred, her disgust. She wanted to ram the man in the door into the wall, take his gun and shoot his eyes out. But she knew the guards would kill her before she even got the chance.

Johnny…now Jack…

Could she live after it? Could she live knowing that he died for her? Died for _them_? Of all people, _them_?

She cursed Fahla, she cursed the people of Stilwater, she cursed the people of Steelport.

She imagined herself a year from now.

If she managed to swallow down the nightmares that would surely flood her, if she could move on from the fact that every time she saw purple, she'd cry, if she could survive through her own self-destruction, she'd be on every talk show. She'd even dress respectably.

Johnny always said she'd look _'real nice'_ in a dress.

She'd wear her hair down, and sit down with Oprah or whoever she had to, to tell this story. The day they were kidnapped and that supposed '_evil'_ man who started in a world of bleak violence and brought both himself and them to the top was the same man who gave up his own life to let them escape.

He went through every form of torture, she'd say. And he'd go through it all over again if he had to. Because he did it for _them_.

Maybe he came across as maniacal, psychopathic, cold, demanding, but there was always a warmth in his laugh and smile. Something so genuine when he laughed. Whether it be in the face of the enemy he killed or around a dinner table at some pricey restaurant with them.

And what else, was he was always appreciative for _everything._

She wondered continually what _he _came from, but she'd never asked.

Now she'd never know.

But she did know that they all helped him work so hard to get somewhere. They had been at the bottom _together _and they fought to get where they were. They were _family._ Maybe a sort of crazy family, but a family.

And he'd be damned if they all died for nothing.

Even if some literary big-wig _did _describe him as an anti-hero or whatever, to her, he did what he knew was right. He protected the people he needed to. He never killed an innocent. He'd save every kicked down puppy that came knocking at his door, like Carlos.

And he'd always have your back.

And he'd always help you get ready, get tough, when you were just joining the Saints. Shaundi watched him take everyone beneath his wing one time or another.

He was making you tough enough to kill the son of a bitch that was making dirty deals with the cops, selling women to the night, and flashing a grin to the media.

Making you ready to take the unfair criticism in your stride.

Making you ready to be the hero that Steelport and Stilwater so desperately needed and never appreciated.

"You are ready to give location." Fahla said it as though it were just fact.

"Yes. I'd like to talk in private, have as many guards come with you as you want, Mate. I don't want my…comrades…to see me die."

"It is an honorable death, they should witness it."

"In…" he spindled a lie in his head, "In American culture, it's dishonorable to die in front of your team mates."

He looked down to his gun on his hip and nodded his head back and forth, bouncing the idea back and forth, "I'm unable to understand that. But I will uphold. Come."

He looked to the five guards leaning casually against the wall, "Jayif, wag gif." He pointed to the others, "Ta-al."

Jayif turned away to look at the door and the other four beside him surrounded his back in a semi-circle.

Jack released a sigh and stood slowly, what surprised him was the hand that had gripped his fore-arm, aiding him to his feet. He looked up, expecting it to any one of his friends naturally, but instead found himself to be looking into the eyes of Fahla.

"Thank you." Jack whispered to him as he slowly got to his feet and Fahla put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him forward gently and holding a pistol to his back.

"Walk."

Jack took a few unsure steps, and finding his balance, he looked to his family.

The only one he ever really had.

Shaundi's eyes were glistening by this point, "You'll pay for this." She whispered to whatever Terrorist decided to listen.

Kinzie's lip quivered and Oleg watched her shivering form. Anger was boiling inside of him, but all he could think to do, is put one of his monstrous hands onto her shoulder.

She wouldn't cry, she refused.

Viola watched like an emotionless statue, and when Jack's eyes passed to hers, she mouthed the words, "We'll find you."

Pierce was biting his tongue, trying to find something he could stare at that would prevent him from losing himself.

In these moments, Oleg looked deep down inside himself. He looked through his morals.

Everything he ever believed in had been in those words of his trainers. Everything. But they never cared for him. They were doing what they were paid for. They were making him KGB material from the bottom up. Everything from beliefs to physique had been molded by them, and here he was, watching someone who genuinely cared about him, who picked him up in the battlefield a multitude of times and he was just letting them take him away.

What fucked up conceited shit did he believe in? Scientific reasoning proved that it was rational.

Was that all he ever thought about? Rational thinking?

"I'll see you in another place, Mates."

Those would be the words, Shaundi knew, that would haunt her just as much as Johnny's scream on the other end of a static intercom.

* * *

Jack stood maybe ten paces in front of this man, and he looked strangely pitiful. "I had to leave yesterday because my wife has just died."

Jack thought about apologizing, saying he felt bad for him, but remembered the time he told him about his son's death.

"Was it an honorable death?"

"Men raped her in our own home and cut her head from neck."

Jack was almost appalled, and he narrowed his eyes, looking to the ground.

"I'm sorry."

"I have not been able to see her in so long, because of _this_. Because of me having to get the location of my brother from you. If I had…If I had been able to get you to tell me sooner, this wouldn't have ever happened."

"This is my fault…" Jack whispered, "…I'm…"

"I know that you are. But it is my fault, unfortunately. I should not have let you sleep three days. I should have not let you see your friends."

"Will it be worth it? To get your brother back, but have lost your wife?"

"Of course. My brother is my family, it is expected I preserve his life. My wife-…she was a woman I loved perhaps, but I cannot ever replace my brother. I will wait no more for the location."

Jack looked down at the floor, something caught in his throat. How badly had his wife been treated by him? Did she ever even _want _to be his wife? Probably.

Though it was strange to think of, she probably loved him. Because just like Americans, you can be a total dick as a boss at work, and be the most loving husband a woman could ever ask for in the privacy of your home with the one person you loved.

He more than likely pampered and cherished her. He probably never thought of her as expendable until this moment. When he wanted to justify his actions.

But now he was the cause of her death, no matter the type of woman she was.

"Mate." He whispered, shaking his head, "I told you. I don't have it."

There was extended silence, he expected Fahla to react in anger. He expected a bullet hole in his head. He expected to be _dead_.

So he closed his eyes, awaiting his death.

Instead, the man released a sigh, his eyes twinkling in a lantern's light and touched the pistol wedged between his belt and pants.

"You told me you _did_."

It almost sounded like an innocent child, trying to receive a different answer from his scolding parent.

"I tried to tell you at first. I did. But, when you threatened my gang, said you'd kill them…"

"You're…gang? Gang? What is a gang?"

"Squadmates, team mates, comrades, whatever. Look, I don't know anything about your brother. I don't who you are. I don't why any of this happened but…I'm sorry about your wife. I'm sorry about your brother. Now…just…kill me."

"You are this willing to give in?"

"Yes. I get it. I have to die. This would come at some point, I always knew I'd die young, I knew. It's just what happens with this sorta lifestyle."

Fahla expected him to be talking about the military lifestyle, while in reality, Jack was referencing his lifetime of gangster-hood.

From the time he was old enough to understand his father's profession, he knew killing was in his blood. He'd never be able to change it.

He pulled the gun out, aiming it at him and his eyes looked into Jack's. His hand shook and he turned around, tapping himself on the forehead with the butt of the gun a couple of times in thought. "I…I can not believe this of what I am hearing. I thought…This is _my _fault. It's my fault…I am failure."

He took a breath, "And now, your death will have _no_ meaning."

Gunshots could be heard in the hallways, and Jack's expression didn't change as Fahla turned around, his eyes widening.

"What is happened…?" He murmured, turning back to the door, peaking his head around the corner, he turned back into the room, "Too much smoke to see."

Jack looked to the floor.

"You-…You know what is happened?" Fahla nodded to himself knowing this had to be true, "What is happened? Tell me!"

"My death _will _have meaning. So kill me already if it's what has to happen."

Some more gunshots sounded from the hallway, this time they were closer and Fahla rushed back to the door, looking down the hallway again. His guards had gone to see what was going on, but he couldn't see anything.

Jack eyed the gun in Fahla's hand that was ready to shoot in his hand. Jack stepped forward, his eyes big, his feet hesitant, his hands quivering.

What happened to him?

He was acting like a pussy.

This was it. He could take life back by the reigns.

He stepped forward, a little more forcefully.

Again. Again. He was behind him, close enough to snatch the gun.

Fahla turned around in slow motion, eye to eye with him and he was shocked.

Fahla was moving his gun, about to bring it to Jack's head, about to kill him.

* * *

"What the hell is _that_?"Pierce yelled as he shot yet another guard, rushing towards him without a single weapon.

Viola's eyes drifted from the man before her to the drum of water sitting in the middle with an almost milk-like appearance. "Oh God…I don't want to know."

Running out of ammo, she turned the gun around and smacked him across the head, but not before he attempted the exact same attack. The smoking chamber hit her on the temple and she flinched away though it had already burned her.

She pulled back her arm and went in again for the attack, this time harder.

For a first since five minutes ago, there weren't anymore to fight. The room had bodies covering every inch, but none of those were alive or coming _back _to life even though Viola half-feared they might.

They left the room without much comment and Pierce watched in relief as Shaundi rounded the corner, "There aren't anymore that way."

"No more in the rooms down this way." Oleg replied, Kinzie jogging to keep up with Oleg's rather lengthy stride,

"Then we need to get going. Boss could still be alive."

"But…Shaundi.." Pierce trailed, and Shaundi looked back.

"But _what_?"

"If…" Pierce trailed off a little and released a small breath, "If he's not…"

"We'll have to deal with it. I'm not a fucking child, Pierce. I don't need the whole death speech."

She took lead, rounding a corner.

"Boss?" She called, into the haze.

Pierce stood there, slightly dumbfounded in his brain but a look of hurt across his face. He wasn't hurt by what Shaundi had said, of course not, she was scared and it was her way with dealing with it. He'd grown accustomed to that a long time ago. He was hurt by the thought of what she might _do _if Jack was dead.

If Jack _was _dead, he knew the pain would be…It'd be too much for his girl to handle.

She'd never be able to forgive herself, but it wasn't her fault. Throughout the entirety of their uprising, she'd been searching every room for him, calling out his name, even promising a few of them life if they'd tell her where their leader was.

They all did.

No one admitted anything.

Their life, Pierce guessed, wasn't nearly worth their leader's, in _their_ sick minds at least.

Pierce followed up behind her after a second, he'd need to be there for her if Jack was dead.

And if Jack _was _in fact, miraculously, alive, he'd need to be there for him just as much.


	9. Sunrise

**9**

* * *

_Previously__…_

* * *

_Jack was behind him, close enough to snatch the gun._

_Fahla turned around in slow motion, eye to eye with him and he was shocked._

_He was moving his gun, about to bring it to Jack's head, about to kill him._

* * *

"Survival of the fittest, Mate." Jack whispered, snatching the gun out of Fahla's hand. The gun went off, and Jack was aware of the pain in his left hand.

But he managed to grab the gun away from him and Fahla backed out into the smokey hallway, grabbing at the cavern wall with his fingers in desperation.

Here was a man in pain, had grown up with expectation at birth and lived to be everything his parent's wanted him to be, but was never truly happy.

Sickeningly, he could relate to the bastard.

"You will kill me. It is certain." Fahla whispered, "After all the torture I put you through, you will kill me. I must admit something to you, though. It was _not_ worth it. My wife meant everything to me. My brother means nothing. I hope he is dead. I never even wanted to find him. It was expected of me. I will die dishonorably."

"You'll die telling the truth, Mate. That's honorable, isn't it?"

Fahla shook his head, smiling and let out a low chuckle. It wasn't out of some sick humor he found in the depths of his mind from the irony of the situation, Jack could understand that just by the look in his eyes.

It was disappointment-…namely in himself…

"No."

Jack put the barrel to his head, "Sorry I have to do this, Fahla.."

"I have nothing to live for."

"If I let you live, would you return the favor?"

"You mean, let you live?" He smiled, but it never reached his eyes, "I couldn't possibly. If I let you live, I would be found by the army. You have an allegiance to your country isn't that right?"

"…I have to."

He nodded, _now _he was basking in the irony.

"Then go on. Kill me. Go on, American. You fairly and squarely got the upper-hand. I am defenseless, just kill me."

"Fahla."

He looked up into Jack's eyes just as he cocked the gun.

"You were never a failure, Mate. People expected too much from you. "

"It was my job in life to meet their standards."

"There was a point I believed that too."

Jack pulled the trigger and Fahla's final dying words died on his lips with him. Blood dripped down the bullet wound in the center of his forehead and left a trail down the wall as he slid against it and fell into a heap onto the floor.

Jack looked down at the man and then at his left hand. Pain was blooming from the missing chunk in his hand.

He swallowed, but he'd faced worse wounds.

The sounds of footsteps sent him into alert and he cocked the gun again, aiming it at the bin of the hallway, and a figure appeared in the smoky haze. Just one.

Running through the pistol smoke was Jayif who stopped short at the gun pointed at him.

"I'm gonna enjoy this."

Jayif's face flashed shock and pain at once, probably regretting what he'd done all those nights ago. And he was about to run the opposite direction when Jack pulled the trigger.

He missed.

He only hit him in the shoulder, but Jayif, fearing his impending death, fell to his back in shock. Wondering, if he was either dying or dead.

This gave Jack just enough time to cock and pull again, directly at his head, but unfortunately….he was out of ammo.

"Even better.." He growled, and walked over the man who now scrambling to get off his back, pushing himself back towards the wall.

"No, no, no." Jack murmured, "Not today, friend."

He flipped the gun around to the butt of it and pressed his thumb agains the bullet wound as he crouched down ontop of his legs, Jayif gave a cry of pain.

"You sick fucking mongrel, you're dead."He whispered, and Jayif placed one shaky hand against his chest.

"I still love you."

Jack, both thoroughly disgusted and slightly confused, assaulted his hand with the aid of the gun. Jayif hissed in pain, pulling his arm away and nursed it with his other hand.

Jack threw his pistol to the side on noticing the rifle Jayif had dropped beside himself, and picked it up in his own hands, measuring up it's girth and weight.

"No bullet. Why think I no kill you?"

Jack smiled and stood over top of him with the rifle, holding it by the barrel, he thrust the butt downwards, crashing it into the head of Jayif.

" weren't creative enough? Because…you weren't resourceful enough?" Jack murmured.

The first hit rendered the man confused, and the second resulted to unconsciousness, and the third cracked his skull. Jack continued, continually smashing it down into his face, all of his rage.

All of his hatred.

All of his anger.

"Stupid butt-fucker."

There was a sticky red pool of blood forming beneath his feet, but he found himself in a paradox where he would hit him to relieve more anger, but it would cause him to gain more. Thinking back on how helpless he'd been, how much he just wanted to die from the humiliation.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

"Jack…Jack, man. Jack…" There was hand on his shoulder, and Jack took a shaky breath.

A black hand reached out and took the rifle from his hand, dropping it down just as he took it.

"Jack!"

"Jack, it's alright, man. We're alive."

There was relief in Pierce's voice, there was relief in Jack just as well, but he had to turn around to just make sure what he was saying was true. He turned around to survey.

Shaundi.

Oleg.

Kinzie.

Viola.

Pierce.

Jack nodded with a quivering sort of smile.

"We're alive."

"Yeah, man." Pierce replied quietly.

"We're alive."

"We're alive, you crazy motherfucker." Pierce said, throwing one arm around him, hitting him on his back with an open palm and a smile.

Jack followed into it, doing this same but a full smile did not meet Jack's face.

He looked back to Fahla's dead body.

"Good Job, man. Couldn't do it much better myself." Pierce said, but Jack wasn't judging his art with the pistol, instead, he was wondering if things could've gone any different involving no death on either party.

Could he have spared Fahla?

Could Fahla have spared him?

He claimed he couldn't.

But he would always wonder.

"We should leave..we could all use a band-aid or two." Kinzie joked, "And maybe a computer…or four…"

Oleg smiled down at Fahla.

"Yeah, let's get going." Viola murmured, "Before everyone starts coming back to life or something. You never know." Being the last to have followed Shaundi down the hallway, she led them on their way out of the hallway. Down the hallways, blood was beginning to seep into the porous rock and the smoke was clearing.

"I managed to assess that natural light was coming from this direction. That should lead us to the opening of the cave." Oleg said, pointing in a North-eastern direction.

Viola continued on with the heading, and soon, they were traveling up-hill and a bright light begun to flood their eyes.

"Keep going, bud. Almost there." Johnny coaxed Jack to continue.

They all shielded their eyes, the new UV rays penetrating through their pupil's like needles. But where everyone momentarily stopped walking, Jack continued on, taking the lead again.

"I'm going. We gotta keep going…" He murmured, "Gotta keep going…"

Shaundi watched his frantic behavior take him to the very mouth of the cave, and his silhouette becoming smaller and smaller in the sunrise.

He held his arms up graciously to the wind, let his head fall back into the sun's rays.

"Good job, man."

He smiled as his legs buckled beneath him and he sank into the hot sand, his eyes shut and he found it suddenly hard to breath. He released a silent sob, choking on his hot tears.

Sitting on his legs, he looked at the multitudes of cars.

How were they gonna get home?

It didn't matter.

At least they were safe.

For now, he was gonna sit here and enjoy the God damn sunrise.

* * *

**THANK YOU- to all the wonderful reviews! **

**Specifically in regards to Guest on his/her review- I couldn't reach you any other way, so I have to this way. That's a definite MAYBE. It's a possibility, but there's other possibilities to be tested, so those are in the same playing field too! **

**In short and frank- I dunno yet!**

**Thank you amazing readers and outstanding reviewers, for all the support and love you show me! :)**

** Keep it up though, I'm in constant need of approval. **

**My psychologist says it's critical- **…just kidding…


	10. Fleur De Lis

**10**

* * *

Jack was in the front seat, originally, he had planned to drive, but Pierce insisted he just sit back.

Jack leaned back against the headrest, but sat back up almost immediately. It smelled like Jayif. Whatever sort of smell that might be, he could accurately depict that being musty cave and something like gun powder. He resorted to gripping onto the door handle as the bumps jostled the truck, watching an endless sea of sand pass by.

"So what's our plan?" Shaundi asked finally, breaking an eerie sort of silence.

"Just drive." Jack replied quickly, "Until a village maybe. Or…a base. Either way.."

Pierce couldn't help but flash him a smile, "C'mon man, I can't believe you ain't _smiling_. Why ain't we _all _fucking smiling? We made it! In one whole piece. Man, there ain't _nothing _that can take us down."

"I'll smile when I'm back in a concrete jungle. I don't wanna see another fucking desert…or cave, _ever_ again." Jack replied, leaning into himself further still eyeing the cloudless sky and the shifting sand dunes.

In agreement, no one replied but Shaundi flashed Pierce a look in the rear-view mirror that Pierce acknowledged with his eyes.

Kinzie turned around, looking through the small window to see Oleg comfortably sitting in the flat-bed, his leg hanging off the back with a sheet of material tied around his face to block the sand from his eyes.

She popped it open for a second and smiled at his unknowing back. "Oleg!"

He turned around, seeing her face inadvertently brought a smile to his lips, "Yes?"

"You're okay still?"

"Yes…A-Are you?"

"I can't complain."

"…How is everyone else? Jack is alright?"

"Yeah…well…I think so."

Oleg tilted his head and gave an _'well, what can you do?' _sort of expression, "He has not spoken…of what happened, I mean to say."

"_Yet_." Kinzie replied optimistically.

"Of course. I'm sure our friend will come around."

Oleg swallowed his own lie, and she was just about to turn around when Oleg reached out to the window, preventing her from closing it. She turned back around, and he looked into her eyes.

For just a split second, he imagined his face up to the window, her face up to the window, and their lips…so close to touching…so close to…

"I…I feel like I should apologize. Jack _is _my friend, and you must think I am monstrous for what I said. No better than one of those…abominations. My clones."

She looked at him, confusion in her eyes, her eyebrows brushed against her eyelashes, "What are you talking about, Oleg?" She whispered as to not attract attention from the two other girls that sat beside her.

But she imagined they weren't listening to her anyway, they were both talking to Pierce about whether he should continue to go straight or to turn in the opposite way of the sun to avoid the harsh rays.

"…I do not want you to think I am…cold and _uncaring_." He whispered, "I have had sudden revelations, I suppose you could call it. I realize what I said…it was wrong. When I…_encouraged_ Jack to give himself up for us. I was not thinking straight, I should have…"

She shook her head, "You weren't siding _against_ Jack. You were agreeing with his reasoning. I never thought-…"

"I am caring man."

She smiled, "I know you are."

He thought about it again, reaching in and touching her face. Pushing the pad of his thumb against her pink dotted cheeks. But he didn't dare do it.

He swallowed instead and smiled a little at her.

"The way the sun hits your face…" He whispered, "…you are very beautiful, Mackenzie."

Her eyes widened behind her now crooked glasses, she pushed them up against her face and removed her hand from beneath the popped window.

She blushed, realizing his words as they set in.

"Is that…Is that a…" Pierce stuttered breaking the moment in two.

Jack followed his gaze and begun to roll the window down with the old-fashioned crank. "It's a helicopter…" He stared at it for a second in shock, a fleur de lis painted across the side, "Stop the car, Pierce. It's the most beautiful purple helicopter I've ever seen!"

Pierce looked over to him once, turned to look up out of the windshield again just to make sure, and then looked back at him again, a grin spreading across his face at the sight.

"Haha, _yeah_, man! I knew our boys would be there for us. I mean c'mon, I _knew _that they'd be on their way!" He rambled on as he slammed against the brakes.

Kinzie looked back to Oleg, "There's a-"

"I see it." Oleg replied, turning away and clambering off the back with one easy push as the truck came to a sudden halt.

Jack pushed the door open, jumping into the sands, knees buckling beneath him subsequently, but hurriedly pushed himself up out of the hot sediment, and begun waving his arms back and forth.

The Saints were looking for them.

He wasn't sure why the thought had never occurred, but there they were. The Saints were looking for them.

For their leader.

For their second-in-commands.

For the patriarchs of the family.

For christ sake, he'd never been so happy to see a glimpse of purple dotting the sky. He'd taken them for granted, that was for sure.

Pierce joined in on waving, jumping up and down and laughing, "They-.." He laughed.

"…found us! Holy shit." Shaundi finished for him.

Pierce hit Jack on the shoulder playfully, and though it stung against his cuts and bruises, Jack could only smile wider.

"We're saved." Viola whispered unbelieving what she saw, "We're not going to die after all…"


	11. Indefinitness

**11**

* * *

When the helicopter had landed, the last thing any of them had expected was a sea of flashing lights around an airport's helipad. Jack squinted down at the sea of people, and looked back at his gang with the confusion spreading across his face like the first time he awoke in that dank cave that was so many miles away by this time.

"What're all these people, mate?" He called through the headset to the gang member piloting them downwards slowly.

"They're all for you, Boss. You've become a pretty big celebrity, nation-wide, ya' know. After you went missing and all in the desert, General McKinny made a public announcement that you'd been captured by the enemy. That's when we came in, 'cause you know the military isn't gonna do shit and-"

"Alright, we get it, lad." Jack grumbled, "I was a pretty big celebrity _before. _I don't want to deal with the fucking media right now. _Now_, of all times they want to ask me questions and attack me. Animals."

"What? No, Boss, sir. They're…They're all on _your _side."

Jack snapped his neck from the window to the driver, "The fuck you say?"

He laughed boyishly, "I know, sick right? Totally dope and shit."

The helicopter jostled as it touched the concrete and he looked back to them meekly once he shot the propellers off, "Sorry…kinda…new to this…"

"Don't…Don't even…"Jack murmured, shaking his head, and the young pilot hopped out of the helicopter, pushing against the mob of people pushing a microphone into his face and opened the back door for his Boss and Lieutenants with a dramatic flourish.

The blindness Jack contracted was due to the light, oppressing him at first like an invisible force, but after a moment, he gained back his balls and opened his eyes again.

Jack slowly stood from the seat, Oleg put a reassuring hand on his back, almost as an apology, and Jack understood.

He understood and Oleg knew he did without Jack even so much as having to turn around and smile or nod or anything. They both knew.

Jack took a breath and welcomed the sea of flashing gun with a frown across his face and a glare in his eyes, he couldn't remember exactly how many microphones were shoved to his mouth in that one split second, how _many _question were thrown to him, but he continued to walk to the purple Bulldog

"What did they do to you in-"

"Tell me, how did you escape-"

"Can we quote you-"

"Did the US military ever _search_ for you?"

Jack stopped at this question, it stuck out like a sore thumb against every other. He turned to the question's owner and met eye to eye with Jane whats-her-bitch-ass-face, and was silent. The crowd died down and they waited for his answer.

The only sounds were camera flashing, impatient breathing, shoes scuffling.

His eyes went from squinting hatred to muling over the words she'd just spat to him. She probably hadn't even thought through her question, but now, repeating the question again and again in his mind, he almost considered answering. He looked down at her microphone in hand, he'd never responded to a journalists question before.

Clicks and flashes blinded him, but he didn't need to see anyone but her. He looked directly into her eyes, was about to say the truth, when Pierce put a hand on his shoulder and turned him back around to the car.

"C'mon, Boss…" Pierce murmured gently, giving a hardened look towards Jane Valderamma.

"Excuse me, Mr. Washington-" Jane intervened, putting a grip on Pierce's shoulder to stop him.

"Excuse _yourself_, bitch. Can't you see the man needs a rest? Damn."

Jack raked a hand through his hair, and then rubbed his chin, feeling the usual five O'clock shadow was a bit longer than he usually let it grow.

He hadn't known he was so weak until it was the final stretch to the car and he had to stop. Seeing that city and the car and just everything made his body go weak.

He was safe, he didn't have to put up a resistance or a fight for survival anymore.

He stopped for a second, and Pierce put his arm around his shoulders. Jack thought over opposing it, saying he was fine, but he when he looked up to say something, Pierce raised an eyebrow and Jack knew he wouldn't be able to lie. Instead, he took advantage of it and attempted to straighten himself with the leverage.

Pierce helped him stand up straighter and might as well have carried or dragged him the rest of the way.

They were a limping mess as they finally reached the car, Jack approached the driver's seat and Pierce was about to go against it when Jack looked back at him, "I'm gonna drive."

If he couldn't walk himself, he'd need _something _to make him feel powerful, he'd need to utilize _some _source of power trip.

"You could really use a hospital or-" Viola begun.

Jack turned to her with humorless eyes.

"I'm gonna go home and get fucking _drunk_, Love."

* * *

**One Month Later**

* * *

Music blared through the speakers, and Jack thought over again about making his room sound proof, but where would the fun and danger be in that?

The first few parties had been somewhat entertaining, after a month straight of twenty-four seven partying, their come-back raves were become increasingly mundane. But it seemed like the only one who thought so, was him.

Every stripper danced like they were being paid per ass shake.

Every guest was laughing, beer popping, stomping along to the music, having sex in any available unlocked room.

Meanwhile, here he was, leaning against his bathroom sink, his head against the mirror as some random hooker felt her hands up his back.

He mentally kicked himself in the ass for having left his door unlocked, the headache must've distracted him.

"That's enough, Love."

"What're you? Gay or something?"

Typical thick Boston accent and a rat face, but maybe he was just judging her because her hands were reminding too much of that damned cave.

She seemed offended, but of course she would. With his experience, whores tended to have low self-esteem. They were the most fragile of their species.

He rolled his eyes.

"Trust me when I say no. Trust me when I also say, you couldn't give a decent hand job if your life depended on it."

With enough offense, they would usually just leave while they had enough dignity to take in their stride.

She removed her hands and looked down to the floor with a fake pout, attempting to pull off a sultry look that just didn't exactly work, he'd blame it on his foul mood, "You could give me a chance you know…I can make you so much happier…"

He closed his eyes, hoping that if he just ignored her, she'd walk out and find a more willing contestant, instead, he found himself with a pair of arms around his bent waist, quickly undoing his belt.

_"…I like you best."_

He sucked in a breath, his eyes opening quickly and turned around, pushing her out the bathroom door and onto her back. He looked from her shocked face to his belt, and quickly, slammed the door between them.

"You stupid piece of-!"

_"Somewhere….over the rainbow…"_

He attempted in re-buckling his belt, but his hands were too shaky to even grasp the leather. He rubbed a hand through his hair as his breath came in shallow gasps.

_"I know where are you now__…"_

Jack dug into his pocket, feeling the yellow bottle in his palm now, he popped the lid open, emptying two small pills into his hand and pushing them into his mouth.

That same smile that haunted his dreams every night was in his head again, phantom hands were roaming his body, and that stench…It was all coming back.

He pushed himself against the wall, panting while attempting to calm his nerves with the aid of the cold wall.

"Stupid fucking pills…don't even work. 'S what you get for picking them off a dealer."

He swallowed, sliding down the side of the wall into a heap on the floor, closing his eyes. He del the bottle in his hand, and decided for good measure, he'd pop two more.

After a few minutes, his heart rate had definitely slowed- considerably. And maybe too much, but he found some sick form of happiness in it. On the brink of darkness, at the edge of the world, there was beautiful silence.

There wasn't sleazy dub step and prostitutes. There was just pure darkness in all of it's innocence, and he was wrapped around it's silent lullaby. He was drifting in it's sea, feeling the waves of soundless comfort wash over him and drown him slowly.

But he didn't feel panic, he felt release, relief, rejoice in the real world's evanescence.

Beautiful solitude.

His eyes were shut, his body stilled, his lungs constricted and then released.

His hand opened, and the bottle rolled from his hand across the floor, the little pills falling into the tile's molding.

And just before he succumbed to it's indefiniteness, he whispered, "Finally…"


	12. Good Shot

**12**

* * *

**Three Days Later**

* * *

Jack had his hand firmly planted on the steering wheel, his eyes set on the road, and in the back, he had a fully loaded gang consisting of Shaundi, Viola, and Oleg in the flat bed.

To his right, was Pierce, his hand over his gun and a smile on his face.

"Man, does it feel _good _to be back in action."

"Angel's meeting up with us at the gym, right Kinzie?" Jack asked for quick clarification to ensure he wasn't making a wrong turn when he get off the highway.

"Three Count, yeah." She answered back over the blue tooth in the car.

"Right then, thanks."

_'Call ended.' _The system announced as he pressed the end button on the wheel.

Making his way down the road, he watched carefully as he passed each pedestrian.

"I can't believe Killbane would be ballsy enough to show his face around here again."Viola sighed, apparently unnerved by it all, but internally, every piece of her wanted to watch Killbane suffer. She wanted to be the one to _make _him suffer.

"He figures a new mask is enough to fool us." Jack said back monotonously, not giving much to the conversation, even though he wanted to. He _wanted _the form of distraction, but every day, it was getting harder.

It was like everyone else let it roll off their backs, probably because they'd tried so hard to forget, but no matter _how _hard _he _tried, nothing could bring him out of the memories. From seeing flashes of terrorists rising above him like phantoms in the night when he was trying to sleep, from hearing words belonging to a dead man whispered in his ears.

"Not much has changed, I guess." Shaundi replied flippantly, "He still thinks he can escape us, and we're still in the loop."

"Like a dog running from the catcher." Pierce smirked.

"Angel's gonna want to be the one to kill him…" Viola murmured, and if you listened hard enough, there was just the slightest bit of dejection in that smokey eyed look.

"That bother you? I know that Killbane was the one who-…." Pierce trailed off into a steady silence and Viola looked at the headrest.

"As long as he _suffers, _I don't care."

"Cold, girl." Pierce answered with a smile, Viola didn't answer.

Jack was unconsciously driving, his mind drifting back to a month ago when Jane Valder-whatever had asked him something that he'd never been able to get out of his head- did the US military ever even _look _for them? Ever even _try_?

If they'd proposed they'd go themselves, he wouldn't of been surprised if they happened to be kidnapped and the military smiled and sat back, clinking glasses with the rest of the big wigs, enjoying the unforeseen luck. But when _they _had pushed _them_, the saints, to go. Had urged them. Had waved freedom in their faces for every crime they'd ever been confirmed of committing, and _then _they just-so-happened to be kidnapped-…didn't it bother anyone else?

Didn't anyone else _see _the possibilities there were?

He tried to push the thoughts away. They were safe now, who cared? But damn it, _he _cared. Someone fucked with _his _team, with _his _family, with _him. _

And thought they could get away with it as easy as that.

And who says they won't try again, but in the middle of the night with guns to their heads?

The thought of Shaundi or Pierce, Viola or Kinzie, Oleg or anyone wearing purple being shot in the head, made his breathing jump just a little faster.

"Boss, watch out!"

Two hands clung to the steering wheel, swerving it to the right, and Jack's eyes widened in shock as he looked over to Pierce who was now staring back at him. When he looked out the windshield, he saw they were now parked, one tire on the sidewalk and civilians screaming or staring in fear.

Jack turned back to Pierce, his mouth open, but no words coming out. He turned away, looking back at the steering wheel, putting two fingers to the bridge of his nose.

"What the hell, man? Trying to get us killed or what?"

Jack shook his head, "Fuck, _you _drive then."

"Man, you started driving in the wrong lane."

"I do that all the time."

"Yeah. When there isn't head-on traffic coming at us!"

Jack looked back up, his eyes shard as razor blades cutting into Pierce's concerned but forceful glare.

"I was gonna swerve!"

"Says the headlights staring into my eyes."

Jack, defeated let out few grumbled and angry words, before pulling the keys out of the ignition.

The car begun to tremor and Pierce turned around to see Oleg staring in through the back glass curiously.

Shaundi looked back to Oleg at the same time and her eyes met his, and he turned to look at Jack again.

The conversation they'd had all together as a group a week ago, excluding Jack, begun to float back into her mind, haunting her memories and her heart dropped into her stomach.

* * *

**One Week Ago**

* * *

"What's this about, Oleg, I have a board meeting to attend to about canceling the Saints Flow line."

"_What?_" Pierce yelled, "You kidding me? When was _I _gonna find out about this?"

"After I cancelled the line."

"Saints Flow is our number one product!"

"It's the _worst _selling product. Did you read the graphs wrong…_again_?"

"It's picked up since last month."

"It's gone _down _since last month."

Pierce reduced himself to a silent lump on the couch, folding his arms and glaring across the living room in no particular direction, "Then what hell am I gonna be the face of if we don't got Saints Flow?"

"You'll figure it out." Oleg interjected, "This is important, friends."

Kinzie typed away on her keyboard hurriedly, any interaction with Oleg was still somewhat awkward after the moment they'd shared in the desert, her feelings towards him were hazy and confused. Many nights she'd think of him or dream about him, but the thoughts and dreams varied between good endings and bad endings.

In some, she found herself married to him or making love, and other times, she found herself beneath his fist or crushed in a palm, sometimes the product of tragic scientific experiment.

She looked up over her glasses and then back down to her screen.

At least there were others.

"This was the only time I could find that our boss was not going to be home."

"Oh, yeah…where'd he go, anyway?" Pierce asked, looking around just to make sure he wasn't lurking behind any corner, "You're _sure _he's gone if we gonna be talking about him?"

"I am sure. He is currently busy with trying to find nonexistent morning star ravaging one of his stores." Oleg smiled, somewhat deviously, and brought his mouth back to a flat line.

"This is serious then." Shaundi murmured, "I think I know…what you're wanting to say…"

"Then it is not only me who has noticed the change."

"Change? Change in what?"

"Since we came back, Pierce. When was the last time you saw him smile at a threat? Or…or look anything but pale and fucked up?" Shaundi shot back quickly, offended that he hadn't noticed the changes in not only their boss, but their best friend.

"You haven't missed anything." Oleg nodded, "I believe…he may be taking, if not absuing, illegally bought drugs. Xanax maybe."

"Oh…" Pierce shook his head with a smile, "You guys are _serious_?" He gave out a laugh, "C'mon, our boss, our boy, Jack, man, he's too strong for that shit. So a couple terrorists knocked him around the block? He's got his shit under control."

"You can't just live in denial." Shaundi shot back, "Pierce, if Jack…if he's having a problem…"

"Keep in mind that he did not ever _tell _us what happened in Afghanistan. He changes the subject every time I've tried to provoke it from him."

"So, what, you think that it's time for intervention?" Kinzie asked now, "I don't think the boss will take to that. I mean, c'mon, he's just gonna yell about how he's fine and to, _'mind yer' own bloody business!' _Then he'll go on a sociopathic rage on the morningstar."

"Girls right." Pierce nodded quickly, "Look, thing is, the boss wouldn't appreciate any sympathy or help or any shit like that and you know it. He's a loner when it comes to shit like that. I mean, how long did it take to learn he was from _Australia_? Really? We all could hear the accent, but he wouldn't even own up to it for a year! Then his name, holy shit, you'd think he was in the witness protection program or some shit!"

"But it's our job, no matter how hard it is, to protect the boss. Right? If we have to protect him from _himself _then that's what we have to do." Viola reasoned, crossing her legs.

"Remember Johnny, Pierce…? I don't want Jack to…." Shaundi whispered, her voice cracking towards the end as she shook her head.

Pierce's eyes softened, looking down to the floor, his voice dropping considerably lower, "If we notice _anything_…_anything _weird from here on out…we'll ask him about Afghanistan."

* * *

Viola looked to Shaundi.

Shaundi looked to Pierce.

Pierce looked to Jack who was holding the keys in a tight grip. Pierce looked at his eyes, the red rims almost engulfed by the black encircling them just before piercing blue eyes met his brown ones.

"What?" Jack snapped.

"What happened, Jack?"

"I don't fucking know. You drive on the wrong side of the road any way. Notice how America's practically the only place where you drive on the right? _Fuck _this place."

"No, I meant in Afghanistan"

The word brought needles to Jack's spine and he stiffened, his hand tightening around his grip on the keys, the silence encased all of them, waiting for Jack to say something. Anything.

He didn't.

"We're worried about you man."

"Nothing happened."

"Nothing? Nothing, when you were thrown into our cell bleeding everywhere and half alive." Shaundi interjected quickly, sitting up a little straighter.

"They got a few punches in. But they tied me up to a chair. What do you expect?"

"How about the burns and cuts around your wrists? Those were from tying you to a _chair_? You expect us to believe that?" Viola butt in quickly, providing the reasonable and researched side of the argument.

"Yeah, I do, when you're tied up and feeling pretty hopeless, you tend to try and fucking escape."

"No, man…" Pierce whispered, shaking his head, "Listen, when you were thrown in our cell, you were barely there. You didn't know what was going on. You didn't have a plan. You were ready to just give up. The Jack I know…_knew _wouldn't give up…So I'm gonna ask you _again_, what they did to you."

"_Nothing_."

"Boss…." Shaundi started, "No one's trying to attack you or anything. We just…" She blinked, and expected Jack to yell something in the pause, but he didn't. "…we just care, Boss. Maybe you've never had someone care before, but we do. I know when I first joined, when we _all _first joined, I don't think we had many experiences of people actually _caring_ but, we do. I was too late to save Johnny, but I'm not too late to save you."

"That's what you think you need to do? Save me?"

Jack scoffed, shaking his head, "Fuck off, all of you." Shaundi's eyes widened, "Nothing happened. I got punched, I got kicked, I got threatened, I was blindfolded. Pretty stereotypical terrorist kidnapping experience. Nothing special. Maybe the shitty water got to my head, but other than that? Nothing happened."

There was a stretching silence that seemed to go on forever, and Jack gave a shaky breath, "Maybe I…"

They waited with bated breath.

"…maybe I haven't _completely_ gotten over it." Jack offered softly, hoping that if he offered this much of an excuse, they'd forget about ever asking him about it again, "It was the first time I ever felt…uh…" He stuttered awkwardly at the thought of sharing emotions, "….helpless, I guess. I just don't ever want to…"

There was quiet again and Jack just wished someone would say something, "…I don't want to feel like I can't defend myself. I've _always _been able to defend myself, I mean even when I-…." He stopped himself, clearing his throat, shaking his head.

Had he really been about to so easily expel his childhood memories?

Had he _really _just about to relent a piece of his past, something he'd kept so well-protected?

_"That's_ what's getting to me. I guess, I mean." Jack finished, pushing the keys back into the ignition and starting the car up again.

They offered a few words, each of them, about how that wouldn't ever happen again. He was always prepared. _They _were always prepared, ready to defend him.

But they'd thought that before too.

And no one knew, that as they drove down the street towards the Friendly Fire, he wasn't scared about feeling helpless. That was only a part of the equation. What really drove him off onto the edge, was that in every face, he could see Jayif, staring back at him with a crooked smile and ropes.

_'I like you best.'_

* * *

There was a moment of hopelessness in Jack's heart that he quickly flicked away with manipulated emotions of indifference. He wondered, who had raised this false alarm?

"Who the fuck lied?" Pierce asked flatly with unamused eyes watching Jack as he reached for his phone.

"I dunno, but I'm gonna find out." He replied, his voice gravel at this point as he slapped Kinzie's face on the screen of his contacts list.

She came on with shaky breath, "I don't understand. This was supposed to be a reliable source, Boss."

"Well, he's not here. So what am I supposed to make of _that_, Kinzie?"

"Uh….that someone is _seriously _hacking our database?"

"Hacking our…since when has anyone been able to hack _our _fucking databases?"

"Well." She sighed out, "If you want me to _actually _answer that questions, assuming it's not rhetorical, the last time someone hacked into our system was just after Mat Miller and his amateur hour, which makes it STAG. Typical U.S Government playing God."

"Governm-" Jack's breath escaped his lungs before he could end the sentence, and Jane Valderamma's question floated around in his head again from the moment he'd landed all those many days ago. Did they ever even look for them?

"Yeah, Government. I doubt that they'd have any benefit this time though, so we-"

Jack pulled the phone from his ear, eyes wide as he looked out the door and towards the car parked up beside the curb. He threw a hand towards it and yelled, "Go! Everyone, in the car, now!"

"Wh-?"

"It's a trap! Car! Now!"

Pierce slid into passenger seat, and everyone followed. Piling into the car in a quick jolt of confusion. Jack, with the butt of the pistol in hand, smashed the top glass of the gun case, grabbing the biggest, shiniest, SMG out of the many selections. His method never failed him before, it was customary that men's play things were bigger and shinier, if better.

He then dashed out the door, into the afternoon light that was beginning to grey behind dark storm clouds, and pushed himself behind the wheel once more, throwing the SMG into Pierce's lap who quickly took it and aimed it out the window in precaution.

"Whose trying to fuck with us now, Boss? Morningstar rising up again? Got a new leader? We'll take that bi-"

"Government."

"Government…? What the hell do they want? We bagged their terrorists!"

"Don't you fucking get it, Pierce?" Jack screamed, slamming his foot onto the gas as the tires squealed in response, the car going into full force as everyone's heads slammed against the headrests behind them.

The car went silent, shocked and in surprise as Jack's breath turned heavy and labored as he made a sharp U-turn and returned down the road he'd come from. When his voice came back, it came back in tremors.

"Those terrorists didn't kidnap us because of _coincidence_. They didn't just so happen to know we were coming for them! Why do you think they slapped a rank on me like Captain and throw me and _my _people into that mission without any of their own soldiers too? Why was it so top secret, hush hush? _Why_? Because the government was in bed with them, Pierce, God damn it, and even Fahla didn't know! The love of christ…"

After a minute of silence, Jack shook his head, "Fahla's brother was kidnapped by the US for answers and Fahla was searching for a Captain to kidnap for answers to his brother's location. Only Captain's were told where Fahla's brother was being kept and Fahla knew that. Prolly from kidnapping a couple dozen everyday soldiers before us. So the US plants me there with my best, my lieutenants, knowing we don't know the answers. Knowing we would die there!"

"No way…" Pierce whispered, shaking his head, eyes in pain and mouth pulling down into a frown.

"It doesn't seem far-fetched to me…" Angel commented dryly, "…a sworn enemy will do anything for vengeance…"

Gun shots rang through the silence and Pierce looked up into the rear-view mirror to see black cars with a impenetrable tint-jobs on their tail.

"Believe me now, mate? They hacked our system. Gave us false intel about Killbane."

"Those assholes." Angel shook his head, listening to the rhythm of Oleg's shot gun shooting in four second intervals, listening to Pierce's SMG firing at a rapid and steady purr, and his eyes turned to the headrest of the leader of the saints.

He wondered if it'd be too much to ask him to go hunting for Killbane with him many a nights, before the kidnapping incident, he'd been about to ask him. He should've asked him.

Now, he'd feel guilty if he took that step. It'd been so long, it felt like, since that ordeal had happened, but there were two things keeping him back. For one, he remembered when he'd felt that horrifying cowardice the moment Killbane de-masked him. Five years seemed like a week ago every time he stepped outside the rust of his gym. The humiliation creeped back and turned his body back around into the gym. He'd call someone to pick up groceries from him, just like every week. He couldn't face it…not yet.

Second, Angel wasn't convinced he was recovering. At least in the weeks following his humiliating defeat, he trained relentlessly, attempting to fill the hole in his heart and worked toward a goal. It seemed, to him, Jack wasn't really working towards anything. He was emotionless in the few encounters he'd had since the incident, every time he saw him the dark bags beneath his eyes were becoming darker, re-rings were forming just above the black and his pupils dilated randomly.

His mouth was always a flat-line, and he begun to wonder if it represented his heart rate. He used to be smiling devilishly, going on about his next big plan for the saints, laughing maniacally everytime he came face to face with a bigger, better gun.

Pierce noticed this same transition, weeks ago, and fear crept in his heart when he realized these were the same changes he'd seen in Shaundi when…

Angel couldn't make the same link and dropped the subject from his mind at the moment, it wasn't really his business anyway. Jack Taylor was a business connection and a reliable man, but not exactly a friend. Even though, if Jack Taylor wasn't so reclusive in his personal life and raw emotion, he would've at least asked how he was holding up.

But no, Jack Taylor would probably just shake his hand at him and frown at such a question. Tell him he was fine and to bug off.

So for now, Angel De La Muerte watched as Jack checked again into the rear-view mirror, and seeing only one car had successfully been blown up, snatched the SMG from Pierce's hands and pulled his arm towards the steering wheel with a heated look.

"Well…fuck I'm sorry!" Pierce yelled, taking the wheel with one hand, leaning over and putting his other hand on Jack's lower back to steady him.

Pierce instantly realized that for one, he'd never touched his boss in such a way. Like a real brother, that knew he had good intentions. Jack flinched slightly, but didn't protest against the help. The car was shaking and he knew that if Pierce wasn't there to steady him, he probably would've fallen backwards.

In fact, he would've thanked him if not for the situation and if not for the voices screaming in his head, _'I like you best__…I like you best…I like you best…' _

Something internally wanted to smack Pierce's hand away and cry, something internally wanted to strangle him. Another part of him was attempting to calm his other half, remind him this was _Pierce _not Jayif. This was Pierce who was his _brother, _not some sick whack-job. This was _Pierce _the best friend he'd entrust his life to. He wasn't touching him like…._that_…He was just preventing him from falling out of the damn car.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Jack brought his upper-half out of the car, Pierce's hand grabbed his belt instinctively as they rounded a corner, holding onto him tight, anchoring him to the car.

Jack positioned the SMG, squinted one eye, and in two seconds flat, there was a bullet in the head of the leading car's driver.

If there was one thing for certain, Angel had taken note that no matter the state Jack was in, he was still, and always would be, at the top of his game.

Rounding another tight corner, Jack felt a second of pulsating fear rise into his temples as he was pushed against the side of the car, and used one hand to grab at Pierce's hand as he turned around to face him.

Pierce looked at him, mouth straight and eyes staring dead into his,

"I've got ya', Boss."

And with that, he turned back to the road, Jack turned back to the last black car, and released a breath. He imagined the driver as Jayif, smiling and laughing, coming up on them to capture him….and when he _did _get him, he'd-…

He shot him dead in the center, right between the eyes.

Oleg turned around to look at him from his position in the back of the truck, his eyes wide,

"Good shot, friend."


	13. A Man and His Boy

**13**

* * *

Five days, and Jack hadn't left the head quarters. Angel left the day after the risky escape, having spent the night in one of the many luxurious rooms, and then retired back to his gym which Pierce insisted he re-model.

Jack was typically found pacing. Not just during the day, but at night just as well. Pacing down the halls and up and down the stairs, never finding a vantage point that soothed his anxiety as he walked around with two pistols wedged between his pants and tucked in shirt.

He took a shower twice a day, both lasting maybe at most, two minutes. He slept in the same sort of intervals, maybe twice a day, for an hour or so each before waking up again, hitting the coffee machine, and stalking Kinzie on her reports. She was supposed to be tracing the hacking software or IP address or _something_ useful, and that's about all Jack knew.

So he berated her constantly with, who? Who is it, Kinzie? When can I kill someone?

Kinzie always gave him the same look and then turned back to her computer with a complicated sigh and shook her head, a steady rhythm of key codes and strange looking symbols across the screens, but Jack still stared at them as though some mystical key was waiting there behind it all. And maybe there was, but if Kinzie couldn't see it, Jack sure as hell couldn't.

"Rest, friend." Oleg finally groaned one day, shaking his head as Jack started in on one of his anxious and almost frantic questioning attacks.

"Rest? How the hell am I supposed to rest when the U.S government is trying to fucking kill us? Capture us? Torture us?"

"Through submissive compliance, brutal force, or me drugging you. Pick your pick." Oleg countered patiently with eyes like slits, and Jack stood silent for a moment, as though going through every scenario in his head. "The same should go for you Viola, you do not look well."

Viola's eyes opened up further from their previously heavy-lidded state and cleared her throat, shaking her head, "Hard to get sleep when just a few days ago you were almost trapped into _another_ kidnapping scenario."

"Right." Jack firmly agreed with a nod and looked back to Oleg as though to test him again. Oleg raised an eyebrow as Viola continued after a pause,

"…_but_, I'll try."

And she raised from the sofa like a graceful sprouting flower and moved along the floor towards the stairs and up to her bedroom.

Jack watched her go the entire way through blood-shot eyes.

"So, we are back to you." Oleg begun, staring at Jack with a lifeless glare, "…determining your fate."

Jack's eyes narrowed and he folded his arms, "I'm the leader here, _Boss_, remember?"

"And a friend." Oleg countered quickly.

"I thought you didn't have any friends." Jack replied lazily, and though it was meant as a dry joke based off his calculating personality, Oleg's face became cold like a statue, and then warmed considerably to something soft he'd never seen before.

"I do now. I have many." He started, "The cave brought many things to light, and it is the one thing I can say is a positive consequence from the ordeal."

Kinzie notably begun to type faster, clearing her throat awkwardly in the background.

"I noticed that many things I believed in previously, may not have been logical after all. So I'll start repairing my mistakes now, by forcing you to get some sleep before you become your own destruction, Jack."

Jack shook his head, "Fine, fine. I'm not sticking around as long as you're going to be presenting story hour for fucks sake."

Oleg gave a light-hearted smile and turned back towards Kinzie, and then Pierce and Shaundi who had been pretending not to listen as Jack made his quick retreat up the stairs and into his bedroom.

"How's that hacking coming along, Kinz?" Pierce asked, breaking the short-lived silence.

She sighed, "Would come along a lot _better _if people stopped _asking_."

"Damn girl…" Pierce murmured, but the catchphrase was getting old and the hours and days of waiting were getting tedious.

Oleg looked towards Kinzie, a fondness in his eyes as he always had when looking at her, but he turned them away just as quickly as he'd turned them towards her.

It made his heart hurt to look at the one thing he wanted so badly, so illogically, and couldn't obtain.

* * *

**Two Days Later**

* * *

"Something's at the door. Just dropped off by UPS…." Kinzie trailed off, squinting at the screen through her purple framed glasses. She re-adjusted them. "…it's for us."

Pierce stood up simultaneously to Shaundi, and just as Shaundi grabbed the gun off the table and were about to lead the way towards the elevators just behind their boss who was half-way to the elevator with his trusty double pistols wielding in hand, Kinzie gasped and yelled, "Stop! Wait!"

They stopped mid-step, Jack swinging around to look at the red-head whose hair was a mess of curls and frizz from late night investigating, "What?"

"Something just came through the data-base. It says not to get the package."

"Last time we listened to the fucking data-base, we got our arses _shot_." Jack shook his head, " That makes for en even better reason to get it…"

Kinzie looked worriedly from the screen, up to her boss, "I think it's a bad idea."

"I think listening to something that lead us into doom is a bad idea." Jack wavered her opinion quickly, pushing the elevator button three times before the doors opened.

"Jack."

Jack turned back around.

"Just…be careful when you touch it. Be slow, careful, and-"

The doors were closing.

"Don't open it!"

* * *

Oleg stared at Kinzie.

Kinzie stared at the package.

Jack stared at Kinzie.

Kinzie stared at the package.

Pierce stared at Kinzie.

Kinzie stared at the package.

Shaundi stared at Kinzie.

Kinzie stared at the package.

Viola stared at all of them with a sour face, and folded her arms, "Are we gonna open this shit up already?"

"…and what if it's a bomb?" Kinzie asked rhetorically, "Then you're going to be wishing you had just a little more patience."

Viola pursed her lips, quickly reaching for the package.

Kinzie shot back for it and accidentally, the package slipped from either of their hands and everyone gasped as the box hit the ground with a thud.

Pierce covered his ears, curled into himself and squeezed his eyes shut. Awaiting his impending death.

But nothing happened.

"That should've set it off…right?" Shaundi asked cautiously, "I mean…it's safe to open it then…right?"

"….I'd give it a twenty percent possibility of being a bomb still." Kinzie replied with a shocked face still on her features, but she swallowed the fear and returned to her typical fluster, snatching the box off the ground, "But hey, screw it by this point."

"That's what I'm talkin' about." Pierce nodded, taking the box into his own hands as Kinzie nervously and hesitantly, allowed him.

* * *

_'Tell your father the deals off.' _

_Jack looked up into the eyes of the grocer, who was glaring at him as though he were him. As if being related was a curse on the world, like he a big black pit swallowing every good thing on God's green earth. _

_He knew that look very well. _

_'Yes sir.' _

_'And Jack__…'_

_'Yes, sir?'_

_'Don't ever come back here.' _

_'….yes, sir.'_

_Jack had predicted the downfall of his father's own empire for some time, his legacy would go out with just the whisper of what it once had been. His face would bury into the soil when he died, and no one would ever know who D.P Taylor ever was. He'd be just another man in the cemetery._

_But that's exactly what his father feared._

_He left the store, bags of groceries in his hands as he hurried to truck, ducking his head down as the mass of people walking down the sidewalks stared, watched his every move. Like he was a serial killer- just because his father was. Like he was a criminal- just because his father was. Like he was so evil- just because his father was.  
_

_Jack entered the truck. _

_Those people used to fear his father, and in turn, him._

_Now, they were aware that his communications, his contacts, his imperial rule was diminishing and he was weak. Old. And utterly defenseless._

* * *

_'Jack__…Jack, dear, am I getting old?'_

_Jack turned from his Algebra II book, looking towards his mother who'd recently gotten her botox. Her face was taut and firm, skin flawless and naturally tanned. Her going blonde hair was wrapping around her neck- the only part of her that Jack thought would end up showing through her age. But then she went and got a neck lift. _

_Pity. _

_He wished he could know how his mother looked without all these extensive surgeries._

_He looked her over thoughtfully while she studied her reflection in the mirror, and when she turned her eyes towards him, he changed his expression to give the usual look of absurdity. 'No, 'course not, Mum.' _

_'…You wouldn't ever lie to your mother would you, Jack?'_

_'No, Mum. Never.'_

_'Good…good boy…' _

_'Why would you…you don't trust me anymore, Mum?'_

_'No, it's…it's nothing like that, honey. Just in case, I'm gonna go see Dr. Eisenberg. I'll be back in an hour or two.' _

_Jack's eyes squinted as he watched his mother, in her tight black dress, move from the her position on the chaise to the door, and into her car.  
_

_Jack wasn't an idiot. His mother thought he was still thirteen, thought he had the mind of a naive child, but he knew that not only would she get her botox that she clearly didn't need, but she'd get it for free at the cheap price of sex._

* * *

_One Hour Later_

* * *

_The door opened and he came in, hanging his coat on the side of the couch, his mustache drooping and gun in hand. His hand was shaking. _

_Jack looked from his position on the stairs, he looked down carefully, crouching down in the shadows that would provide as cover.__  
_

_He looked towards the kitchen that had been his previously set destination, before the headlights of a car reflected on the windows and froze him on the step. Even though his father didn't set fear into the townies hearts anymore, he still had the ability to send fear into his heart._

_He shook the gun towards the stairs, 'Go, get in here, bitch.'_

_His mother, shaking like a little wet flower in a storm, moved into the house, crying and her frown a deep-set flat-line from the botox. Little dots decorated her skin. _

_His father's face was contorted in a power-trip, his hands shook just as hard as his mother shook when backed up against the wall. _

_D.P Taylor set his arms out, holding the gun directly at her slowly shrinking form as she fell down onto the floor, crumpling into herself with her manicured fingers digging into her skin. _

_'I'm sorry, Danny!'_

_'Wait!' Jack screamed in a sudden burst of courage. _

_Maybe she'd slapped him onto his back countless times when she'd fought with the man about to kill her, maybe she'd grabbed him by his hair and shook his head until he was screaming for mercy, maybe she'd stomped on his back with her high-heels and kicked him while he was down, but at a point- before his father had become the almighty and powerful, they had loved each other and his mother had been wrinkled and at peace with the world._

_Religious and content with her quaint life._

_His father had always been distant, and consumed by his __'work'. _

_But there was a time when things were so much less complicated.  
_

_His father looked up at him, his mother looked up at him, and there was a loud bang._

_And at first, Jack thought his father had killed him. Instead, he'd shot his mother with a crooked smile on his face and hollow eyes. _

_Looking at the bloody wall, and reflecting what he'd just done, he cried out, __'Gillian!' _

_So maybe, in a sick way, it was the best thing that ever happened to her. Because in those two seconds, it was the most passion he'd ever shown towards her. It was two seconds that he actually cared if she was dead or alive._

_But this time, it just so happened she was dead._

* * *

Jack watched as pierce tore at the tape like a savage with a knife, and then hesitantly, stared into the box. "Mmmm…" He hesitantly cocked his head, looking into the box.

"So you rip it open like a mad-man, but you're too much of a pussy to stick your hand in packing peanuts?" Shaundi asked dryly as Pierce's face took on an expression of hurt.

"You ever see the movie Seven? Man, he reached _his _hand into a box of packing peanuts and found his wife's damn head."

"Well, you don't have a wife, so you shouldn't be worrying." Jack replied, plummeting his arm into the crisp crunch of the packing stuffers and ripped his hand out with a large silver package.

"…Drugs?" Pierce asked with a small smile, "Someone loves us!"

Jack shook his head, "No, these ain't drugs, mate…'S too heavy…" He shook it gently and then opened the top end like a bag of chips, peering down inside with a dissatisfied look. "….movies?"

"What?" Viola asked with a humor in her voice.

"Movies. Fucking _movies_."

Jack pulled up one of the DVD's. A simple white page acted as a cover with the words _'A Man and His Boy' _typed across the front. He opened it up, passing the silver package along to Viola who begun to dig in for the other movie case.

Opening the case, Jack found a note.

_'Watch the movie.'_

* * *

**Review if you like, review if you don't! Criticism is greatly appreciated, just as much as praise. **


	14. Sun's Blindfold

**14**

* * *

Jack flipped the note around again, eyebrow raised. "Watch the movie…"

Jack popped the disc out and looked up at the plasma, and Kinzie met his gaze, "W-Wait. Our database…he said…"

"Kinzie, do we need to remind you _again _about what happened the last time we listened to that?" Jack reminded her once more, moving the disc up and down in a fanning motion impatiently, "How can watching a video-"

"Trust me, there are things the government can do with toothpicks that would tell them your life story." Kinzie said in a darker voice, her usual snark had transformed into something hostile.

Jack stopped waving the video, eyeing it before looking back up to her.

Softly, he continued, "Then…then what should I do?"

The hopelessness filled the room, plans were formulating in his head, but none of them even made sense.

"I'm just saying, but…there could be things on that DVD that could really expose their weaknesses, or there could be scarring images that we'll never be able to erase…ever…" Viola reasoned, arms folded as she bit her lower lip, looking at the plastic case in Jack's hands that slowly, so slowly, was slipping.

"Our entire _lives _are made up of memories we'll never be able to erase." Shaundi replied, and after a thoughtful pause, added, "We get new scars everyday, and if the same hacker that was trying to get us killed is telling us _not _to watch these…why should we listen to him…or her?"

"_Because_…" Kinzie begun, breathlessly as though the answer was obvious, "….there is a fifty percent chance that the hacker was never trying to get all of you killed in the first place."

"Wait…_what_?" Pierce stepped in, his eyes looking to everyone else in the room, looking for any other confused faces.

He found that most, were sharing his doubt.

"If he lead you there to _trap _you, first of all, the government should've been in position to attack as soon as you guys entered the Friendly Fire. They were definitely late, and they're _never _late…Number two, why would he give us information _again? _Why would he have the faith we'd listen to him a second time when he knows that _we_ know he's the hacker?"

"Can you…talk with him?" Jack asked.

"The origin is _seriously _blocked, so probably a government computer. Doesn't mean he's not on our side though….and I've been working on it."

Kinzie walked towards her computer lying precariously on the sofa's edge and grabbed it again, bringing it onto her lap as she sat in her usual indian style, staring down at the familiar page.

She cracked her knuckles, "Give me a few more hours. Just a few. If I can't get a hold of him, we'll play the movie."

Jack looked from her, to the movie case, to the television, and then finally, to the note. It didn't say a time frame, in fact, it was frighteningly _not _frightening.

He nodded a few times, dejectedly letting the case slip onto the table and stared at the title one more time.

_'A Man and His Boy.'_

* * *

Pierce gave an exasperated sigh, doubled over with his arms on his knees as he watched Kinzie and the thin sheet of sweat overtaking her face.

_'So what she's saying__…is this hacker. He was trying to…what? Protect us? Or..distract us?' _

He shook his head.

He'd been in this business for how many years now? And everything still surprised him, around ever corner there was something to be stumped by or shocked by. There was never a moment when he could roll his eyes, sit back, and sigh. But that's, somewhat, what got him into all this. The action, the respect, the stardom, the money.

Never thought he'd make a new family.

Never thought he'd be sitting here beside his boss, worried about the movie, worried about Kinzie and that hacker, worried about Shaundi who was sleeping less and less every night, worried about his boss who still just wasn't himself again.

Worried.

That's something he'd _never _think he'd be this far down the line in his career. He'd of thought, he was such a hard-core gangster, he'd always have a pistol and some sweet moolah and would never feel worried about _anything _ever again.

* * *

"I think I-" Kinzie shouted, her eyes wide as the screen reflected into her glassy eyes, sore after the three straight hours she'd been sitting there.

In a moment of ecstasy she smiled.

Jack had just been about to call it all off, and sat up from his seat at the sound of her voice. On the very edge of his seat now, he didn't wait for her to continue. "What?"

Then like a switch, the ecstasy turned down slowly, notch by notch.

"Well…" She whispered, and then her face fell, and a deep frown set into her features, her skin paling and shaking her head softly, she said, "You were right…"

"Wha-…Why?" Jack asked quickly, beginning to stand up.

Kinzie continued to shake her head, her shoulder's falling limp and giving a shaky sigh, "It's just _them_. Being assholes."

"How do you know? What did they say?"

"The hacker says he's…Gat."

Jack felt a rush of air coarse through his lung and get stuck somewhere in his heart. His head turned into a whirlwind of thoughts, ideas, plans and found himself leaning back into the chair. "He's…alive."

"No, Boss, we _heard _it…We _heard _them kill…" Shaundi turned her head away from it all, closing her eyes and her voice beginning to shake.

So many months ago, and it still ached to hear his name.

"But we didn't see it."

Shaundi looked to him now, eyes shaking with fresh tears brimming her lower lids.

"Why would he be hacking into their computers…_how _would he be hacking into their computers? This Johnny Gat doesn't seem like a technological genius to me." Kinzie reasoned slowly, watching her boss's face fall, she bit her tongue and looked back to her computer screen.

"You said it yourself, Kinzie! You said the fucking hacker never meant to-"

"That was before it started saying it was a dead man!"

"No, Boss is right! We _didn't _see Johnny die. It's a possibility!" Shaundi stepped in swiftly, looking between the pair who fell silent.

Jack turned away, "If he's alive, we have to find him."

"Well, you can wave good bye to _that _notion." Kinzie replied quickly, "No way are you gonna track this computer back to a source. To a location. Are you _kidding _me? You've _got _to be kidding me, right?"

"No, I'm _not _fucking kidding you!"

"Then you're high…or insane…or both."

Jack threw a hand up in the air, standing up and rubbing his five O'clock shadow thoughtfully, hatred building up in his eyes as he watched the passing traffic fly in a whirlwind of colors.

Somewhere out there, beyond the metallic giants that stood tall, beyond that blue sky, Johnny Gat was sitting behind a computer with shaking breath, wondering when he'd be caught or found.

When would his kidnapper be back to check on him?

He sat in the darkness, the only light provided by the screen with his sunglasses long gone, and an overwhelming silence that made him imagine gun shots and screams to fill the void.

And slowly, he was going crazy.

Flashing lights broke Jack's train of thought, coming down the main street that ran perpendicular to their building, a row of police cars were leading a pair of solid black Lincolns,and following up was another line of cops.

Jack watched, his mouth slowly opening as they pulled up to the curb of their penthouse. "They're here."

Everyone's head snapped to the window, squinting from the glare of the sun just as they'd done in the desert, in the sand dunes of Afghanistan.

A door opened to the second black Lincoln, but the ray of sun hit Jack's eyes and he closed them for a second, putting up a hand as he attempted to once again, open his eyes.

He looked down at the side walk as he took a few steps forward, escaping the glare's blind fold on him.

There on the sidewalk.

Was the one and only.

Johnny Gat.


	15. Nasty Smile

**15**

* * *

Jack had to blink several times at the figure staring up from the sidewalk, a smirk across his face and sunglasses still firmly planted across the bridge of his nose.

Nothing had changed.

But everything had changed.

Jack looked down at the man he'd called his brother and listened to die in the hell fire.

He was on the balcony now, on the pool deck with a sniper rifle in hand, staring down with a twisted frown on his face, eyebrows brushing his eyelashes and teeth planted in his tongue.

"I'll fucking kill you mates…" He whispered hoarsely, "Fucking kill you…"

And there was a man down there, in a suit and tie with a white megaphone and a smirk, the glint of his glasses reflecting the sun.

"Remember me, sweetheart?"

Jack positioned the sniper rifle a little better, pointing it towards his head.

"I wouldn't do that…" He drawled, licking his lips in Jack's scope. He pulled from the scope, looking down at the man who, with his free hand, lifted a silver remote.

Jack snorted and gave him a grin, as if asking, _'Are you serious?'._

"You wouldn't be laughing if you understood." The man replied through his mega phone.

Gat's grin turned downward, and looked up to his boss, and Jack could feel his eyes staring onto him.

"Then explain." Jack whispered, knowing the man below couldn't possibly here him, so the man lifted the mega phone once more to his lips.

"Want me to explain? Then put your gun down."

He was hesitant, looking to Johnny who he was so sure, must've been a hallucination. The cave…when he'd seen him there, yelling at him to grow some _'fucking' _balls.

Johnny didn't look up at him.

Jack slowly, lowered his arms, putting the sniper gun to his side, his hands still twitching against the metal.

"Notice I have your long lost friend."

Jack looked from Johnny to the man whose voice sounded thick like his voice was coated in yogurt, and turned to look curiously at the empty streets, he looked down a further ways down the streets and noticed that cop cars had the roads blocked.

"Ehem."

Jack looked back down to him.

"That's right. Keep your eyes down here, boyo. Now, listen up here, Mr. Taylor. You're gonna wanna hear _this_." He laughed, snorting half-way through his hyena impression, shaking his head and lowering the megaphone, "…Ah, I've got Gat down here, acting friendly as fuck, wouldn't you agree? Lookie here, no cuffs, no shock collar. Not a damn thing. Wanna know why? Oh this is just heart warming. You sick gangster fucks seem to have some kind of respect for one another after all huh?"

"Get on with it, you bloody fucking wanker!" Jack screamed as loud he possibly could.

He raised his eyebrows.

Apparently, he'd heard.

"Oh, getting culturally colorful are we? Well, let's say I want to chat. Where did you say you were from again?"

"Get stuffed, fucking bogan!"

"….I'm not even sure that was English." He sighed, "But all the same, getting a move on would be helpful to my cause just as much, I guess. So, let me tell you, before your voice gives out. We're going to give Johnny Gat back to you. You're going to come with us. Oh, wait…have you watched the movie?"

Jack swallowed, his throat was sore, and wasn't sure he could talk normally, much less scream down to a man twenty something floor down…maybe more.

The man came back on, "Lift an arm if the answers yes."

Jack did nothing.

"No, then? My, my. I'm disappointed. But it hardly matters now. It won't help you now…should've watched it when you had the chance of striking a deal. Ah, well. There are _no _deals now, Mr. Taylor, you do realize that?"

There was a pounding in his head at the thought of being taken captive again, tied up to a chair and beaten, thrown under water and blindfolded, raped and alone in the darkness of a room that could only hide his secrets for so long.

"I hope you do anyway…" He paused, gaining back some breath, "Alright, listen. You come to your elevator. A few of my men here, will greet you in your little penthouse, and you'll just ride on down. Then I'll send Mr. Jonathan Gat into the elevator, and up to your awaiting friends. A fair trade yes? Oh, and I'm sure your wondering if you say no? Then your precious Lieutenant, dies. Your other loyal pups, die. And you, will still be taken. And you _will _be at our mercy. Are we at an understanding? If we are, I'd like to see you raise your hands to the sky within the next ten seconds, and make your way back into your penthouse. From there, I'll trust you to wait at the elevator doors, _unarmed_."

Jack released a breath, his heart beating out of his chest and lungs quivering inside.

"We can take this guy boss. Fuck him. If they were gonna kill Gat, they would'a-" Pierce caught his words in his throat as their leader, against the setting sun, raised his hands into the sky, and slowly stood to his feet.

In the orange rays that absorbed into the front of his body, a dark figure rose from the ground and silhouetted in their eyes.

"Good Boy."

Jack turned back around to face his gang, his eyes catching the last few rays of light, before darkness slowly begun to wash over the city.

But there was no emotion in them, just a hard determination.

"Boss…Boss, you know that if you go _with _them…" Shaundi murmured.

"Like I said before, Viola. You're in charge."

"You haven't died yet." She replied softly, as though to urge him to correct his last statement, but he just smirked back at her.

"Jack, no, there's a _better _way." Shaundi whispered.

Jack started walking towards the door.

"There's _gotta _be another way. Another way, right, Kinzie?" Pierce added quickly, looking over to the girl who had bent her head down, sitting on her knees and rubbing her shirt against the lenses of her glasses as an easy distraction.

"I will not let this happen." Oleg said, "I can jump from here and-"

"You'll be killed, Oleg. The impact." Kinzie stepped in before something completely ignorant went down, "And more than likely, the impact would cause an explosion because if you're planning on _killing _anyone with your death, you'd have to do your jump in close proximity to a car. But that wouldn't kill _everyone_ and we'd be at a severe shortage of ammo for _that _many-"

"_Thank you_, Kinzie." Shaudi halted her train of thought, watching as their notorious leader walked through the glass door, not taking a second to look behind him as he entered the elevator doors.

"No…" Shaundi whispered, shaking her head, "No, not again…"

She ran to the side of the building, looking over the edge as the politician with a nasty smile pushed Johnny towards the doors, Gat waited momentarily, and as the doors opened, Jack found himself cuffed and within just inches of his lifetime best friend and fellow gang banger, Johnny Gat.

They looked at each other, Johnny leaned in a little closer, saying something as Jack nodded quickly and was handed off to the suited man with the megaphone, who grabbed him by the collar like a runt puppy and threw him against the side of the car.

Johnny was already inside the building.

Shaundi grit her teeth as she watched that greasy cut throat hold Jack's head in his hand, and slam it against the side of the black Lincoln.

"Hey!" She screamed, "Hey, that _wasn't _the deal! Get your _hands _off my _boss._ So help me God, I'll find you, you piece of worthless shit! You piece of fucking shit, I'll find you! And when I do, you'll pay! Got that? Take a note, because I'm gonna gut you like a-…" She stopped, coughing into her palm and taking a few gasps of shaking air.

"Hey, girl. Just…just wait." Pierce called to her, taking her by the back of the arm.

She didn't pull away, but instead sucked in another breath or two, and then, once she'd finally caught her breath and swallowed a couple of times, looked down to where the car had once been.

And saw that now all that was left, were a few skid marks, and a cop car pulling away.

When she looked back to Pierce and the others, she saw a frowning Johnny Gat standing in the doorway, looking out to them with removed sunglasses and dead eyes.

"I don't know who half of you are anymore, but I think we can all agree on one thing…we're gonna kill that son of a bitch and gut him like a fucking sewer rat. We gotta get our boss back."

Shaundi swallowed again.

Johnny always knew how to finish her sentences.


	16. Detox

**16**

* * *

There was a darkness taking over the head quarters, and Jack's pacing was replaced by Johnny's. Whose usually calm and collected manner had been replaced by a frantic and cracked frenzy.

"Look, I'll tell you this again…what's your name again, four eyes? Kenzie?"

"_Kinzie."_

"Whatever. Close enough. I don't know much about anything. I know I was shot in the thigh, and that's when the PA system got cut, Shaundi. You thought I was dead- well, that's what they wanted. Okay? So, I'm taken to this place, and I've been there for probably close to a damn year, right?"

"Why didn't you ever try to escape?"

"You don't think I _did_? Was fucking impossible with every branch of asshole breathing down your neck, looking into your cell and under constant lock down. Shit, finally, I _had _to give up. I gave up when they told me they had you all kidnapped by those terrorists. They said they had control, could get you killed at any second…I didn't know they were _lying _to me. I _figured_ they were, but what if they _weren't_? I _knew_ you were kidnapped, I didn't know how much pull they had…they're_…._they're…_them_. If you were all killed, how the fuck was I supposed to live with myself?" Gat took a breath, clearing this throat and shaking his head at the past, "Anyway, after your escape and all, they just fed me more lies anyhow. Said they…..well, shit, I dunno, fuck. Said they implanted some kind of…chip or some shit in Jack's arm? Could release cyanide at any time and kill him with the push of a button off this remote or some kinda cooked up craziness."

"_That's_ what that remote was?" Kinzie jumped in quickly.

"Yeah, I guess so. Never showed it to me, but hell, it all seems like a load of shit." Gat shrugged, shaking off a shiver, and shaking his head, "Anyway…uh…" Sighing, he picked his voice up again, "So I stayed pretty docile, sure, but wouldn't you?"

"How did you hack into those computers?"

"Huh?"

"The computers, how'd you hack into them?"

"What the hell are you…._hack_? Hacking sounds like _your _past time, not mine."

Kinzie's eyes widened, "I knew it."

"So if _you _weren't typing us those warnings…who was?" Shaundi looked from Gat, to the others in the room who'd taken a seat on the sofas.

Shaundi had to admit she was feeling lazy, lying around here when her boss was knocked out in the back of a Lincoln, being prepared for only God knew what, and the buzz in her muscles couldn't be ignored, but she released her nervous energy by shaking her leg in a quick rhythm, looking into everyone's eyes nervously.

"What'd they say?" Gat asked curiously.

"They said that…well, the first one's hard to explain, but…basically set us up to get trapped. But, Kinzie thought, in a way, he or she was trying to help and wasn't trapping us after all, and…"

Johnny raised an eyebrow.

"Nevermind. The _second _message told us not to watch the movies…" Shaundi shook her head in her hands, not exactly wanting to delve into the details of former enemies when they had so much more to deal with now.

It seemed almost trivial to bring up Loren, who'd they'd smashed with a thirty ton steel ball that Boss had rode down a long shoot. Or that they'd battled the Cyber King, Matt Miller, through his digital kingdom, or almost defeated Killbane, world renowned wrestler, in the Muderbrawl.

But Christ, Gat _would_ be damn proud when the conversation _did _rise to a more appropriate occasion.

"The movies? The one that freaky Tennessee red-neck was talking about?"

"We didn't watch them…" Shaundi shook her head.

"Maybe we should've…" Pierce whispered, his head looking to the floor now, releasing a breath of air, his eyes watching the tile as if it had the answers he was looking for, as if it could teleport him back a day ago, when they _could've _watched the movie. When they _did _have the chance to _do _something before any of _this _happened.

Gat moved across the room to the table where the box and movie cases had been abandoned. Only one had a title.

"A Man and His Boy, huh? Sounds either like a wholesome family comedy or gay kink. Don't know which is worse for my personal entertainment values…"

"We should watch it. Even if they prove useless now." Oleg added, bringing the conversation back around to the main focus.

"But maybe that's exactly what he _wants _us to do." Kinzie reminded, looking up from her computer for a moment to scan over the faces that greeted her.

Pierce grit his teeth, and something snapped. A fuse met it's end and a bomb rose from his stomach to his throat. Some mystic form brought him to his feet, and the rusted joint that had fused his jaw tight and silent, released.

"We gotta stop guessing!" Pierce screamed, 'God _damn!_ We gotta stop fucking around! Our boss is out there," He pointed to the city sky-line,"…and we fucking _promised _him this wouldn't happen again."

Pierce pinched the bridge of his nose, "Damn it, we promised him. We_ gotta_ stop _fucking around."_

"Pierce is right, " Gat started, his eyes downcast, "… we want out motherfucking boss back, right?" Johnny yelled. "Any nay-sayers can just waltz the fuck out."

"Hell yes." Pierce said.

"Absolutely." Shaundi added.

"Of course." Oleg jumped in as Kinzie nodded quickly from behind her computer, cheeks tinged pink in embarrassment.

"I'll do anything I can." Viola finished.

"Then we gotta _stop _being pussies, and _start _being Saints again. We used to go with our gut feelings. We used to hold a gun to anyone who pissed us off and stood in our way. We used to be both methodical, and trigger-happy. So _fuck _the rules. And _fuck _deductions for now. We ain't got much to go off of! If this movie is anything…we gotta watch it. Maybe they've got their psychology, but we've got guns and _we've _got the man power."

Kinzie lowered her hands, looking up into the hidden shades of the man that had only been a legend until now. A myth that she doubted could be everything they said. But now, she saw it in flesh. The truth behind their words was unexpected. His fists shook with an intensity and dedication that could of only been intensified if his eyes had been visible. The power in his words was unquestionable as he picked the case up, shaking it as though it were as harmless as a dead rabbit.

And Kinzie was whole-heartedly strung along with every word that spurt from that mouth like a fountain of truths that had just been waiting to pour.

"So let's watch this pussy ass shit, huh?"

Kinzie looked up, hesitation dying on her lips and she closed them again. She knew something wasn't right about that DVD, but she pushed her lips together and looked up into Johnny's sunglass shielded eyes and nodded in silent agreement.

Johnny turned down to the case, popping it open and and removing the disc with an aggressiveness that made Kinzie close her eyes and reach her hands out to the case, squeezing her hands in a _'gimmie' _manner which Johnny fulfilled and threw it into her lap.

Kinzie popped the disc out carefully, a small stripe of sweat collecting above her brow, and handed it off to Oleg who carefully, with the use of the fingernail on his pinkie, pushed the eject button and placed the DVD into position, closing it softly to ensure he didn't break yet _another_ one and stepped back after a moment, handing Kinzie the remote.

* * *

_'In the summertime__…when the weather is hot…you can straighten up and touch the sky…when the weather is fine….you got women, you got women on your mind.' _

Jack's eyes opened, and for a second time, he found himself in a position, he wished he hadn't.

"Not this again…._fuck_."

"Oh, don't worry. I promise that _this_ time, will be no repeat of your last…experience. Now that you're awake, I'd like to ask a couple of questions, Mr. Taylor."

Jack was surprised to hear the voice of the southern man, and attempted to open his eyes wider, but found it impossible. He tried to focus on words, but again, found it impossible.

Maybe it was the bright lights and the sickeningly cheerful music, but either way, he was floating on half consciousness and darkness, and slowly, the whirlpool of submissive sleep was sucking him in.

"Exc-…Except the…the tape, mate."

"What was that?"

"The tape…the tape's the same."

After a moment, the man gave a laugh, catching on.

"Mmm. Your right, we scanned over your remains in the cave, and found this little mix tape. We thought you'd enjoy it, sun shine."

"Fucking…_perfect_."

"Glad you like it. Now look, I need to ask a little question, here, Jack."

"Eh?"

Jack envisioned a rattle snake, spurred and ready to attack as he listened to the low rattling.

"Open your eyes, damn it, Fucker."

Jack took a breath and cleared his throat, opening his eyes into slits, looking hazily at the hand in front of his eyes. A yellow bottle clutched in his fist with a childproof cap slightly popped.

"What's this I found in your pocket?" He laughed, "Some Xanax? Off your rocker, huh?"

"…What're…you…" He drawled, but couldn't form a coherent sentence, much less a single thought. "…where am I?"

"Feeling the detox, huh? Yeah, you bunch of gang bangers are all the same. Drug addicted murderers with a god-complex."

He kicked his chair, his face looking distorted through demented vision and Jack shook his head, shaking the sweat off his forehead like a soaked dog.

He leaned forehead, finding himself once again, attached to a chair.

"Thought…you said was supposed…to be…differ….differ…"

"It will be. A promise is a promise, Jack Taylor. We ain't here to kill you like our sand digging friends out there." He chewed something thoughtfully, probably tobacco, but there was a small chance of it being gum. "We're here for something a little different, and if you hadn't been poppin' the chill pills, we'd of already been done here, Mr. Taylor. Gotta wait for the detox to run it's course some more."

Jack closed his eyes again, heart sinking into his stomach in defeat, "God damn it…"

Tennessee as Jack would call him, laughed.

"God _damn _it…"

"Get comfortable Mr. Taylor…you're friends ain't here to save you this time."

* * *

There was black static on the screen, and the _'movie' _looked like a home film or one of those shitty low-budget movies that Shaundi and Gat had watched during some of the nights they'd smoked a whole bag of weed together. When they didn't have shit to worry about or do, but sit around and get high with a gun across their lap and a smile on their dopey faces.

But the smoke haze must have made the movie seem a lot better than what it was because Gat remembered the quality being even better than _this_. And come to think of it, Gat couldn't really even recall what any of those had been about to be honest.

A voice came over with the same Tennessee accent, he began, "Jack Taylor…we're ready to strike a deal with you. It's fairly simple…'

The black screen turned to a picture, a red dot in the right corner, blinking slowly as the camera gradually picked up the light and focused in on the surroundings, and the man behind it gave a snort.

"We found this in the wreckage you left. What luck, huh?" Tennessee narrated, and he laughed again as the man in the video came from around the camera to look into the lens, apparently inspecting each of it's components for any faults in his set-up.

Assured there were none, he left the view, and some rustling came from somewhere left of the camera. Inside the room, while empty, there was a cassette player on a small brown table and a wire-frame bed with a mattress and nothing much else but a simple sheet that was covered in questionable stains.

The man rushed to the cassette player and pressed a button as he helped bring in a man who was being dragged on his toes, supported by his arms around two men's necks.

Shaundi swallowed. "Is that…Boss?" She asked darkly, afraid of the answer to her own question.

His soaked shirt and dripping hair brought more questions that answers and he was shivering beneath those ratty materials in the chill of the dark cave. The natural wind tunnel fluttered his soaked pieces of hair around his bruised and cut face. His fat bottom lip, which was usual a thin sliver running the width of his chin and to the edges of his jaw, was bleeding profusely, he opened his mouth for a second to breath.

The man before him, put his hands on his chest, palms flat against him.

He said something in a language no one understood.

Jack shivered harder against his touch and quickly, the two men who had dragged him inside, begun to undress him.

"Fuck.." Johnny whispered, his eyes averting the scene momentarily, before looking back, not out of curiosity, but an urgency to prove himself wrong. That his deduction had been sick and misguided.

He was continuously proven that his first deduction had been correct after all.

The man in front of Jack, removed the last article of clothing which was Jack's shirt and smiled back at him, pushing him quickly, over to the bed and throwing him down onto the mattress face first, forcefully grabbing every limb and tying them up with chains or ropes, or anything they had on them at the moment.

This man, the camera man from the beginning, was also removing his clothes.

_'Somewhere..over the rainbow__…'_

"Fuck, I didn't know all this went down…" Gat murmured into dead air, his forehead resting on his hands and eyes in flames, behind his cool shades. "_Fuck_."

He raised his head up.

His fist was rattling in his lap, like a snake ready to pounce.

Jack let out a scream and Kinzie's hand shook as she pushed the 'stop' button. What had been the point in any of this? He'd said a deal would make itself apparent. But so far, nothing but humiliation had presented itself.

"I can't…" Shaundi whispered, "I can't…"

There were a lot of things she couldn't. She couldn't watch this tape. She couldn't believe this had happened. She couldn't bring herself _to _believe her invincible boss could be brought down to this. She couldn't believe Jack had hid it for so long. She couldn't believe she'd let them, the enemy, take him away…_again_.

"Kinzie, press play." Johnny said darkly.

"W-What, are you ser-"

"No, I'm kidding. _Yes, _I'm fucking serious. Like we said before, we don't have many damn options. We gotta…we gotta see what he wanted."

Kinzie, with a shaking thumb, brushed the top of the play button, and after a second, pressed it.

The scream came back, in a haunting roll of thunder, it took over the penthouse.

"S-Stop!" Jack screamed, his accent becoming thicker as it usually did when in intense situations dealing with an extreme amount of either fear, anger, or glee. It wasn't hard to decide which of the following he'd been dealing with. "Stop! No, fuck…_no_. No…"

His grip on the sheets tightened, and his jaw clenched as the camera man went faster, the bed creaking in response.

And as though on queue, Jack would let out a squeal, a scream, or a whimper every time, depending on the force.

And finally, Jack became a silent lump on the bed.

After a few moments, the screen went back to black, silence followed, and the viewers in the penthouse wondered if the video had ended. If they'd watched every bit of that for no good reason at all.

Then the voice came back, in an aphotic tone that contrasted considerably with his previous light and mocking one. "This happened once, Mr. Taylor…want it to happen again? His name was Jayif. I have news for you- Jayif _isn't _dead. There's something of ours that you have. Don't worry, you don't _know _what it is. But _we _know. We want it back, and would be happy to give you back to your little gang banging friends after we reclaim it. If you're in compliance with this, you'll meet us, in Loren Square, two days from the date you got that video. If it's after that date, you'll meet us outside the Murderbrawl Arena. At eight PM in either location. Come alone."

The voice stopped and after a few moments, a little box popped up, asking if they wanted to replay or eject the disc.

"So they kidnapped Jack to get back whatever they wanted in the first place, except, they gave us Gat and they're not giving back Jack." Kinzie clarified, raising her eyebrows, "Great."

"Why did they give back Johnny?…And he said it could be _after _that date. It's only been three days since these discs were delivered…right, Pierce?"

"Yeah, exactly."

"They _knew _someone was hacking their shit. And the _hacker_ told us they were Gat to let us know they had him and he was alive. _And _to get us to trust him. He's not on their side, that's for sure." Kinzie continued, nodding her head to conclude her own theory as undeniably and effortlessly, correct.

"Unless he told us not to watch the videos, knowing they'd come and kidnap Jack and presumably kill him."

Everyone fell silent at Viola's words.

"Downer…" Pierce whispered.

"Or, maybe since he's communicating through a government computer, he's on the _inside_. He knows he can get Jack back."

"You're really confidant about this guy, aren't you?" Viola asked Kinzie, her eyes narrowing, "I have a bad feeling about him."

"I think he's trying to help. Maybe he's being more of a hindrance for _now_. But he knows what he's doing. An idiot couldn't hack into our database. _I_ made it."

Viola turned back to black screen, the little blue box haunting her with the word, _'replay'_.

"So, what's the next step? We're on a roll here, guys." Pierce looked around, waiting for any words of advice to spring from anyone.

"I'm gonna get some answers out of that hacker…" Kinzie replied, setting the computer back into her lap, and her fingers were already running a marathon, her eyes searching line from line, through the coded text, the numbers, the figures, the symbols.

Her brain scanning every message and every possible word from this mystery hacker.

* * *

**This chapter is for my amazing reviewers, new and old alike.**

**Jessk13 (THANK YOU! -She's the reason why I update this so fast and NEVER lose interest in putting up new chapters!)**

**Kirkanalo**

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**Sierra R.**

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**Guest (not sure if it's the same person every time, and if it's not, thank you all!)**

**compa16**

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**I'm pretty sure I got everyone, and I hope I did. Because I really want to thank ALL of you! :)**

**Not to ruin the beautiful moment, but reviews are ALWAYS appreciated! It put's a bigger number so everyone thinks my story is better than it probably is, it makes me get all warm and fuzzy knowing you care about the story and are reading it, and it gives me good advice if you decide to critique! **

**So please, no matter the reason you choose to review, I LOVE THEM!**


	17. Cocoon

**17**

* * *

Sometimes, there's more than just what meets the eye. Sometimes, there's something _beneath_ the exterior. Like a cocoon, which might be an overused example, but profound none the less. A cocoon is disgustingly grotesque, tiny in comparison to the world around it. But inside, there's something beautiful. A little butterfly, waiting to be released to the world.

Colors and beauty, flying into the sky with spiraling magnificence.

But sometimes, those beautiful things are crushed or hidden, and may never see the light in an environment shrouded by grey veils.

A perfect example of this, personified, would be one certain Matt Miller.

A cyber lord by any technological aficionado's terms, and a terrifyingly powerful force across the world when web-based terrorism was concerned in the matter.

In reality, he was covered by his gigantic black uniform, working abroad both for the majestic Queen of England and the President of the United States, his face hidden from side-swept blackness.

So in a way, he had more than just a single layer. Multiple, meticulous layers. Every time one was uncovered, there was another. Closer to the real him, but still hidden.

Underneath everything, Matthew Miller was a genius. A prophecy had been laid in stone since he'd been young and had taken an interest for the old computers that had been thrown out by his parents who deemed them 'broken' or 'useless' and eventually, 'silly pieces of junk'.

In reality, they were just too daft to figure out how to use them. Honestly, did they even _think _to plug them in?

Underneath it all, Matt Miller wasn't a gang banger. He'd been literally sucked into this line of work by Loren, who coaxed him into the job by dangling promises to fame in his face, promises to respect _beyond _the cyber-world.

Oh had he always wanted to rule a _real _kingdom.

But he grew out of those dreams slowly, and came to a realistic epiphany that he was no real 'god', he was Matt Miller. A technological genius and his prowess reached to every corner of digital-anything, but he couldn't be king of _anything_ except a gang that killed innocents. And no matter how much he wanted to believe that _he _ruled his own gang, it was always Loren that he had to go through before he could command _any _order. It was always Loren making the declarations to his subjects.

Not him.

Never him.

Time away from Steelport made him prioritize his life, realize a few things, and that's how he'd ended up here.

Looking through a little slit in a door, eyes watching carefully as his plan began to slowly fall into place.

His breath was nervously escaping his lungs and re-entering in short bursts. But he wouldn't falter. Not yet.

He blinked, unbelieving his eyes.

There, sitting in the seat, blearily looking at his surroundings through detoxing eyes, was the one and only Jack Taylor.

Leader of the 3rd Street Saints.

* * *

"I've been trying to get as far away form myself…as I can…Somethings are too hot to touch, the human mind can only stand so much….You can't win….with a losing hand."

Jack murmured to himself as a presence made itself known by clearing it's throat.

"I hurt easy. I just don't show it. You can hurt someone and not even know it. The next sixty seconds can be like-…..the whole world just adds up to one big lie!"

"Singing Bob Dylan, are we?"

"People are crazy, times are strange! I'm locked in tight, I'm on a rage. I used to care…but things have changed…"

"You're really off key."

"…la la lala la lalala…"

"You can sing yourself to the grave for all I give a shit."

"I'm a worried man, with a worried mind! Nothing in front of me, and nothing behind…there's a woman in my lap and she's… drinking champagne."

"You've fucking lost it, m-"

"Any minute now, I'm expecting all hell to break loose…this place ain't doing me any good…..gonna take dancing lessons. Gonna do the jitterbug right…lotta water under the bridge…lotta…Don't get up gentleman! I'm only passing through! People are crazy, times have changed…"

"Alright, _Mr. _Taylor. Your detox seems to be moving right along, eh? You're scheduled for that _surgery_ tomorrow. About this time. That means no food, no water, no nothing."

Jack fell quiet, his eyes averting the man standing in front of him, hands on hips and looking down at him like he was God, viewing his creation with disappointment.

"Yeah, keeping your mouth _shut_ now are we?"

"Saints…Saints'll come through."

He smiled.

Laughed.

Shook with a joy that shook him and every inch of fat on his body as he licked his top lip absent-mindedly which appeared to be a habit long forgotten, and far out of reach from breaking.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's what your little friend said too. Said you'd come through for him. Should'a heard him. The Saints'll come! Just you watch!" He shook with another round of laughter, "Tell me, Jack. Tell me something. You've been around enough groveling dead men, them just waiting for you to put a bullet in their head. Right? Right. Well, tell me something, why is it that they make everything seem worse than it is? Huh? Our enemies? Half the time, we're not killing them. Just eyeing them up from afar, dropping comments where we know they'll hear them. But they get so _feisty_. They get so _defensive. _And they haven't even made it to the worst part yet."

The words fell flat on Jack's ears, looking again at the doors.

* * *

Tennessee walked through the door to a scene that made his breath fall from his lungs. He took a step back, there was a gun pointed to his head, a smirk echoing in his eyes.

He grabbed the handle, jiggling it without any success. He turned around, shocked, and looked through the glass. Eyes like Egypt and eyeshadow like smoke followed his gaze as black whispers of hair trailed behind her.

He turned back around.

Mouth bloody like a rabid animal sat Jack Taylor, a metal chip was in his mouth, and through his white button-up blood blossomed like a flower across the front.

His hands shook, shaking the shackles around his wrists against the metallic chair.

Standing above him, like a savior, was Matt Miller.

* * *

**A little short (EXTREMELY short in comparison to previous chapters), but there's a good reason for it! Don't ****worry, you may feel a little overwhelmed next chapter! ;)**


	18. Sublime

**18**

* * *

_12 Hours Ago_

* * *

Tennessee walked out the door, leaving a trail of uneasiness in his path.

Jack thought through the words, though his hazy mind tended to put a damper on all thought processes, he thought through this clearly, word for word, image by image as they crossed his head.

He imagined Johnny, sitting in this very chair with cuffs around his wrists. Promising this asshole he dubbed Tennessee that _they_ would come for him.

What did he think when _they_ never did?

When he was sitting here in the middle of the dark or in the bright blinding white that must've suffocated him. Staring at the blank empty walls and the padded white door.

It was all too close to a sanitarium for both of them.

Sanitariums were as friendly of a place to think of as prison cells.

How did Johnny do it?

How could _he_ do it if they decided to keep him?

Jack felt a pang of guilt followed by anger and rebellion, all just bubbling up inside of him.

Johnny, who he never rescued.

Johnny, his best friend.

Johnny, who he'd been so quick to deem dead.

Johnny, who was obviously immortal.

Johnny, who he'd only got to glimpse one more time at, and now this was possibly…the end.

Birthed from the silence, the anger ripped through him again and he pulled himself forward, strong enough to rip his elbows or shoulders out of socket.

He knew from experience.

But it didn't.

He brought himself forward again, throwing himself towards the wall, face screwed up and pinched as he felt the pressure against the bones in his hands, the cold metal digging into the layers of skin.

But what he felt wasn't pain.

It was freedom.

Coming in small doses and very, very slowly.

* * *

He wasn't sure when he slipped into unconsciousness. But it couldn't have been long ago.

Pain was still burning in his hands, beneath the skin and in his bones.

Bruised, cracking.

He needed to break his hand to get them through the cuffs. He just needed to pull against the restraints. Just a few more times.

Just one more, he told himself after every time he pulled himself forward, pulling his hands through the metallic bracelets. One more time, Jack.

Again.

One more time, Jack.

Again.

Stop being a pussy, Jack.

Again.

Not giving up now, c'mon Jack, you felt that crack, didn't you? So close…

"Stop that, you're going to hurt yourself worse than you already have."

Jack's breath went cold like his blood, and his heart stopped. His body twitching in response to the touch on his arm and pulled himself again, jerking forward even harder.

One more time!

"Stop! Stop it, I said!" It was a sharp whisper, like a snake screaming in his ear.

Jack's eyes snapped open, arms shaking and eyes searching the form as they traveled up the black jump-suit.

Up the silver zipper, to the popped collar, and to the pale face covered in messy black sweeps of hair. There, _here_, was Matt fucking Miller.

"Cheers."

"Fuck!" Jack screamed, "Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why d'ya hate me, God? Why the _fuck _do you hate me?"

"Calm down!" He whispered again, "Lower you voice, lest you want to get _caught_ you blubbering _mad man_!"

"_What_? _What _in holy hell did you just _call _me?"

"Really? _This _is the time to get offended? You know, never mind, it's in your genes anyway."

Jack's veins turned from cold, to ice at those words. Did he know about…?

"What'd you mean, mate?" his voice was low, raspy, and undeniably as frozen solid as his heart at this point.

Matt's eyes looked up to his own, almost shocked, "I was only _joking. _I was referring to the myth…well, honestly, you should know this…" He snorted and looked up at Jack, for any revelation. There was none, so he sighed, rolling his eyes in a dramatic fashion, "..that all _Australians_ were once British prisoners? Sent to Oceania in exile?…you _have _heard that haven't you?"

"Oh! Right. No…I…" Jack nodded, "That's not really important. What's important, is that my former _enemy _is standing above me while I'm strapped to a god damned chair…so what do you want while you have me, anyway? Money? Power? No, you're a sick freak, so _what_? An _apology?_"

"Would you stop being so paranoid?"

Matt curled up his lips and shook his head, walking behind him. In a natural response, Jack snapped his neck around, attempting to watch his every move. He was the type that wanted to watch death over take him if he had the choice.

"I've come to break you out, actually…" He replied listlessly, inspecting the chains around his wrists.

"Why?"

"_Why? _Because…no one deserves this_…_thi-. This is…complicated. To be honest, it's a long explanation. Think I can explain it to you once I've joined your gang, escaped the government, and we have beers around your pool?"

Jack blinked, thinking this over, looking up into the eyes of Matt Miller. He saw no deceit, and in desperation, he'd try anything. Worse to come? He died. But he was going to die if he stayed there anyway, so he had run out of options.

"You break me out and I'll say maybe."

Matt smiled and color rushed to his cheeks, "You won't be sorry. Promise, mate. You know, the messages you got on your database? Those were from me, you know! I-I led you away from a trap, an-and made sure you didn't watch those movies!"

Matt bent down, beginning to fiddle with the hand cuffs around Jack's wrists, exclaiming his accomplishments in high pitched hope, waiting for approval.

"Another round of beer on me in your honor."

Matt beamed.

"What _were _on those movies anyway?"

Matt remained quiet, his face falling and hands around Jack's wrists and thumb against the cold metal turning still.

"Matt?"

"That's…not really important." He busied himself with the cuffs again."Something to talk about the day we share some beers!" He stopped fingering the cuffs and removed his hands. "Oh, messy me. I forgot. I can't release you yet."

Jack tried to locate him with his eyes, "Why? Why, Matt?"

"Obviously you know by now that _they_ want something."

"…Well…yes."

"They'll follow and kill you to the ends of the Earth if they don't get what they want. What they want is a chip. Implanted into your body by an undercover US Army Doctor, posing as a terrorist. See, the day you were kidnapped, he was left alone to guard you. The specifics aren't important, how I know, isn't important either. Again, something to share later. _However_, I know where this chip is, I know why the want it, and I know we have to remove it."

"Why now? Why not use it against them? If they want it so bad, they'd let us walk out of here with it still in-"

"No. They wouldn't. They'd kill you and rip you open. Alive may be preferable, but not a necessity."

"Not if you had a gun to…wherever it is…"

"I've a better idea."

"Mind sharing? I'm the one whose gonna have to trust you in your hands as a surgeon."

"You'll hold it in your teeth once I've…_extracted__…_it."

"…My teeth…"

"Right. If they kill me, you'll bite down on it. If they kill you, I'll shoot it."

"I'd prefer I not die in this equation."

"But _they'll _know. Don't you see? _They'll _know that those are the options."

Jack looked back up to Matt, his eyes searching his for a second before scanning down the length of his body and to the floor.

"You'll..have to be silent so I'll…I'll have to _gag _you, bloke."

"…If you tell _anyone _about this…_ever_, I'll f-"

Matt reached into his jump-suit's pocket and held up the rag, stuffing it into mouth quickly and pulling out a roll of duct-tape, pushing a long strip across his lips.

"I've thought all of this through. Don't worry."

Jack glared at him, a few droplets of sweat were already forming across his forehead, and Matt looked back at the door. A woman, with smoky eyes and thick black waves of secrecy forming around his head stood at the window.

Matt opened the door, whispered something and wheeled in quietly, a metal cart of crude looking scalpels.

"Couldn't sneak any anesthesia…we wouldn't know how to use it if we had it anyway…Well, _I _wouldn't. Asha might but…she can't really…be bothered. To just be honest. She's _very _busy, don't judge her."

Matt defended quickly, holding up a less-than-polished looking tool. "This'll be fairly quick."

Jack's eyes rolled to the back of his head, an onset of wooziness overtaking him as the cold metal of reality hit him at his sternum.

* * *

Tennessee walked through the door to a scene that made his breath fall from his lungs.

He took a step back, there was a gun pointed to his head, a smirk echoing in his eyes and he couldn't believe who he was looking right back at.

He grabbed the handle behind him, jiggling it without any success. He turned around, shocked at the frailty of the scene, and looked through the glass. Eyes like Egypt and eyeshadow like smoke followed his gaze as black whispers of hair trailed behind her.

He turned back around.

Mouth bloody like a rabid animal sat Jack Taylor, a metal chip was in his mouth, and through his white button-up blood blossomed like a flower across the front.

His hands shook, shaking the shackles around his wrists against the metallic chair.

Standing above him, like a savior, was Matt Miller.

"You got the…you're a fucking _traitor _Mat Miller. Fucking _traitor__…_Asha Odekar. Asha Odekar and you are…are…_dead_."

Matt smiled, it widening in large increments as the injustice on Tennessee's face became deeper with every fleeting second. Matt turned back to Jack, "Hold the chip nice and still, Jack." He said as he came around the back, unlocking the cuffs quickly with a few moves on his fingers, and Jack stretched his arms out the sky immediately, a vicious look in his eye when he looked at Tennessee, blood shot eyes and a dripping face.

"L-Let's be civil."

"Sure." Matt agreed quickly, "We're going to walk straight out of this building. Into a car of our choice, and say our goodbyes."

"Without the chip."

"Oh, I think not. I believe we'll just be taking this as a souvenir. Hm, Jack?"

"Then we'll track you down."

"Then we'll cock a gun at this chip."

"You're in for one hell of a ride, Matt Miller. Jack Taylor."

"We plan to throw our hands in the air and laugh." Jack answered quickly through clenched teeth and a snigger.

Matt pulled the gun away from Tennessee, and turned it onto the chip between Jack's teeth. And Tennessee, grunting and red-faced, backed out of the doorway slowly that was so conveniently unlocked at this point. He started pulling backwards as he entered the hallway again, and Matt and Jack, as a single unit, walked backwards, down the opposite way, still eyeing the shaking Tennessee that shook and rattled like a little waif in an alley.

They took off at a run, forwards now, as they turned around a corner.

Through every corridor, and into the big open white space of secretaries who screamed and cried at the sight of a gun and Jack's bloodied body, Matt and Jack held together their hostage situation over the beloved chip.

And no one, dare touch them as they left out the front doors, into the sublime sunlight of another passing day, and Jack felt for the second time now, reborn and touched by some sort of miracle.


	19. I Wouldn't Advise That, Mate

**19**

* * *

It was a strange sort of reunion with distant smiles and sideways looks at the newest addition, Matt Miller who no one fully trusted just yet.

Attentive hands crawled across Jack's body by Kinzie and Shaundi, fussing over his messy stitches and swallowing the scenes that were still so fresh in their memories.

Shaundi snarled at Matt before looking back at their boss, the proof of Matt's crude sewing techniques lining his chest "I'm taking a shower.." He said matter-of-factly, before saying anything else.

Without answering any questions.

Without even making eye contact.

Without even the smallest of a smile, he turned around, limping into his room.

He placed the chip in Matt's hand and was gone.

The door closed, everyone turned away from their boss like the loyal pups they were, and turned to Matt Miller who now felt like an old woman backed into a corner by an angry mugger in the thick darkness- no screams would be heard…or acknowledged.

Matt swallowed, thinking back on his plans and wondering if they were as methodical as he'd originally conceived them to be.

"Cheers?"

"You better start talking…and _fast." _Kinzie snubbed, her nose crinkling in distaste, "What's all of this in it for you?"

Matt could already see his obituary. _'Lifelong internet hacker, Matt Miller, died beneath a super dog pile of Saints last Tuesday after stuttering his way to a lame answer.'_

"W-W-Well.._nothing_. I mean, not _really. _I…You saw your internet base?"

Kinzie raised an eyebrow, "I knew it."

"Did not."

"Did so."

"Did _not. _I lead you away from a trap _and _successfully stopped you from watching the tapes they sent. And before you ask, _never mind _what those we-"

He stopped suddenly, breathless as he saw the painful flinches across their faces. Snarls dropped into frowns and wrinkles where taut skin had been pulled back across youthful faces. Now, there was shame and darkness across their features. Eyes pulled away from Matt's torn face.

"You didn't. You honestly didn't, mates…" Matt murmured in a grave voice.

Johnny looked up, eyebrows pointed down like daggers behind cold glasses.

"What the fuck were we _supposed_ to do? Think you could'a explained? That you weren't the enemy, maybe?" Gat shot back. "We didn't know _what_ to believe."

"You think I had the time? Trying to deflect the same enemy from within _their_ sanctum? I was_ already_ suspicious to them." Matt's voice, growing increasingly high-pitched, lips shaking. "Don't be angry with me. I had nothing to do with what they did…and-"

"Matt." Oleg stopped him swiftly, eyebrows knitted and frown splitting his face in half, the dimple resting in his chin more pronounced than ever, "We want answers. Above all else, we want to know a few simple things. What is this chip you have in your hands? Why do _they _want it? Why did you save Jack Taylor? Three very simple questions, I am sure."

"Yeah, right. _Simple_. Sure." Matt swallowed, nodding, "Should we…sit down then?"

Matt looked to the couch, feeling anxious for some form of normalcy and not being over looked by a giant who could easily fall on him and crush his bones, perhaps pick the broken ones out from his skin and eat them like chips.

Matt found it suddenly hard to swallow.

"Any objections?" Oleg asked, looking around the group for any displeased faces.

All were displeased, but nothing notably treacherous was in their eyes, so he motioned towards the couches and Matt nimbly went down the stairs pushing a hand through his side bangs to reposition them.

He toyed with the chip in his hands as he lowered himself onto the couch, the others positioning themselves across from him. Even sitting on the arms or standing with arms folded in a defiant attempt to not sit near him.

He bit his bottom lip as he flipped the bloody object around. It had almost been destroyed- Jack's body probably had been rejecting the metallic disk.

Matt sighed, placing the chip back into his palm and tightening his grip on it. "This little chip in my hand is the only reason _they _wanted Jack. The _only _reason they were desperate enough to give up Johnny. They planted this in Jack the day you lot were kidnapped. I'm the one who made this chip."

There was silence where Matt had expected an uproar, he looked meekly to make sure no guns were pointed at his head or a giant ready to smash him.

There was peace on their face, but determination just as well.

"We had one of our doctors, disguised as one of the terrorists, infiltrate and implant this in Jack…This chip contains every word the enemy said in that cave. It will probably give away information such as fellow terrorists' locations and weapon advancements, or defense tactics. Things that could help us _win_ this war. But to retrieve information this way, to me, was…barbaric! A human sacrifice!"

He snorted,

"They used you because…they thought, to put it very bluntly, was a double win. Get rid of America's number one gang, and retrieve all the information needed. In a way, it was a _triple_ win because they would make you out like war heroes and no fans would cause uproars on your death. It'd be a silent kill."

Matt paused.

"I couldn't…I _wouldn't_ allow all of this to go on. Even for my former enemy, this was creul- when your leader allowed me to escape without dealing me a shred of harm…I saw that Loren and Killbane…they were wrong. He's a good man. It's the honest truth, that I did this just because I found it was the right thing to do. Just as well- I've asked for something in return."

There was continuous silence.

"I asked him if I could join…your gang I mean."

Stillness flooded the room. Not a single muscle moved. Not a single breath could be heard.

Matt looked up, into the blank faces.

"I sort of expected…there to be words?" He whispered nervously.

Pierce opened his mouth, letting a sigh follow. "Man, what'd you want us to say?" His voice was dark, barely above a whisper with a hand to his face, "We've got a say in the decision, but not a choice."

"What's that mean?" Matt asked defensively.

"It means, we dunno who to trust anymore, man! And Boss is gonna be Boss and do whatever the fuck he thinks is right. If it's the right decision after all? We have to wait and see. Look, don't get me wrong. I trust my boy. It's _you _I don't trust."

Matt was stunned, but not exactly surprised. Stunned by the coarse words, but not shocked by the reasoning. He was a former enemy, now with powerful connections in secret government branches. Who, with a sane mind, _would_ trust him in their gang?

"You should." Jack advised Pierce.

The voice came from the top of the stairs, and there standing, in grey dress-pants and black dress-shoes but entirely shirtless, was Jack Taylor. A dark purple button-up was in hand and with the other hand, he raked his hand through his short wet hair.

"I trust him, for_ some_ fucked up reason, I trust him."

Matt would've smirked. So _that's _the sort of person that would trust him in their gang. Like he said, what _sane _person would let them in their gang?

* * *

Jack slapped Johnny on the back, "I'm so fucking happy to see you, Johnny." Jack laughed, shaking his head with a smile.

Johnny offered a smirk, but it wasn't whole-hearted. Through his button-up and multi-thousand dollar dress pants, all he could see was the fetal positioned mess of a man, crying with blood dripping down his legs.

Screaming to God to end him.

Johnny swallowed, his eyes avoiding his gaze for a moment. Jack had looked away and removed his hand. He'd never been one for sentiment, and in comparison, Johnny hadn't either.

They could bask in the happiness standing there together on any other normal circumstance. But just as the happiness had drained from Johnny's face, Gat noticed that the same thing happened to Jack's. When he thought no one saw, his face darkened again into a flat-line.

Johnny wanted to shake him and ask, how the fuck he could stand before him like this. Black and red rimmed his eyes, but he was still standing tall with that brilliance in his eye. He still had that set determination in his jaw. Johnny knew he was resilient.

Example A was that traitor ass Julius Little.

Example B was the boat explosion.

Example C was the re-building of the Saint Empire.

Example D was the loss of Carlos.

Example E was the loss of himself, even.

Five hard examples of resilience, but Johnny couldn't bring himself to add example F as the rape in the cave.

No.

No, it was all too wrong.

But he couldn't say anything. Not now. He'd let it take it's course. It was the law of men.

In other words: No touchy-feely shit unless last resort.

Johnny wondered if the rule was really applicable at this point: when his best friend had been raped and violated in a dirty cave, beaten and dehydrated for days. Hot and sticky with God-knows-what running through his mind. Johnny knew that feeling of guilt he got on extremely rare occasions- he recognized that pang in his stomach that ran up into his heart.

He wanted to talk to him.

But he couldn't.

Jack wouldn't.

Jack just wouldn't.

"How about you, Johnny?"

Gat surfaced from beneath the drowning prison of thoughts that had previously been swimming through his head, but as though he'd pulled the plug to a drain, Jack brought him out of it and his eyes darted to his. As long as his glasses were there, no one would be able to see the anxiety.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure. Whatever."

Johnny hoped that his sentence made sense, and by the accepting expressions he got, he guessed it did. Thankfully

* * *

Jack stared quietly at the glint of the metal on the chip lying beside his bed, then to his alarm clock. It was four AM, and for the fourth time that night, he was waking up.

He pushed himself from the bed, groaning softly at the ache and tear of the stitches and took a breath before standing. They were getting sore. Looking down at them, he would say they were clean.

But it felt like they were inflamed.

He shook his head.

He could deal with it in the morning…or…well, _later_. _  
_

He stumbled through the bleak darkness to the door, opening it swiftly and walking blindly through the pent house and into kitchen. He switched a light on and placed his hands flat against the frozen counter-tops. That was Shaundi for you though. Always needed it at sixty.

They'd have to do a lot less gang banging and commercial shoots if she could keep it at seventy three.

His mind wasn't on any of this however. In those few minutes, his mind was buzzing with Jayif's words and his own screams from the previous nightmare. He thoughts rambled listlessly on the disappointments of life, his failures, and his point in living.

The latter was the most depressing and he settled for a yellow bottle in his hands and three little pills in the other. He stared down at the capsules.

"…I wouldn't advise that, Mate."

Jack stopped, swallowed, his hand so close to his lips.

He turned around, and standing before him was Matt Miller, rubbing his eyes softly but looking at him with every ounce of consciousness.

* * *

**Next chapter: More Character drama, more intervention time, more getting shit done with Tennessee.**


	20. Everclear

**20**

* * *

Jack looked up to him.

In contrast to the eyes Matt had seen earlier, these were empty and full of some kind of tired mirth. He smiled, even. His lips cracked in the light of the kitchen, cracking into slits of red across his thin pink lips that curled into a smile. He laughed a little, shaking his head and closing his eyes.

The pills shook in his vibrating hand that was cupped just beneath his chin.

He silenced and opened his eyes again, hollow and empty.

Before, when Jack had stood in the midde of the flat, he'd flashed a smile. Hitting Johnny across the back as he thanked Matt, sincerely and asked about the chip, to which Matt answered for the second time that day.

Jack kept up the smile, and waved away any concern from Shaundi. Or the reasonable urging for him to go to a doctor by Viola, after all, they had the best and most flexible health insurance money could buy- a gun.

Jack shot down every bit of concern, and offered a celebration that _didn't _involve a party- in _their _crib at least. On the questioning of Oleg who mentioned that he _must _be tired, Jack snorted.

_'Strapped to a chair for days on end and you don't think I've laid around enough? I need loud music__…and lots of people…lots and lots of vodka too…'_

They ended up in a night-club, with blaring music and flashy lights.

In a sea of people, Jack could get lost. He could forget every memory of Jayif and his kidnapper, Fahla- who he'd begun to wonder…was he such a bad man after all? His methods were unforgivable. His reasoning- was it so awful?

Johnny, who was like a brother to him- wouldn't he go to the ends of the Earth to get him back? He'd already done it to _avenge _him, so how could he say he wouldn't do it if it meant getting him back _alive_?

Jayif- who took away his pride, and his cleanliness. How many days did it make since it hadn't hurt to sit down? Everytime he sat down, every time he thought about-….

God, it was painful. Like knives.

He knew something wasn't right about that, that maybe something was wrong with-…

He could never go to a hospital and tell them though. Have them prodding through his-…

No.

He shot another gulp of vodka down the back of his throat, enjoying the burn.

And now, Matt saw him in the middle of this kitchen, his eyes so empty and lost, and he didn't say a word.

"I wouldn't advise that, Mate." Was all he said, and Jack laughed quietly.

Closing his eyes and smiling to himself.

"Why'd you say you were Johnny?"

Matt was quiet for a second, opening his mouth. "Oh. Right…" He whispered, taking a step forward, sitting into a bar stool, "Don't take those."

Jack lowered his hand, tightening his hand around the pills.

"I said it because I thought it was someone you would trust, would listen to. Just as well, your kidnapper, Agent Dixon was carefully following those messages. He never knew I was the one informing you- he was working on it." Matt nodded, "I figured I'd break out two with one stone. I knew if I told you Johnny was alive, Dixon would give in. He'd trade you for Johnny. Pretty obvious with consideration he's so predictable. Once you were taken in- I'd break you out as well."

"Fucking genius, Mate…" Jack complimented nodding, opening his hand again and looking down to his pills, "Now get the fuck out. I've got a headache."

"Those aren't Advil."

"They're better."

"J-Jack, wait."

Jack had the pills, touching his lips with his eyes closed. So close to paradise.

"Jack, listen." He waved his hands in front of him to execute his points as he stood up, taking a step closer. "You're almost out of the detox stages…right? A-And, you've had _so _much alcohol, Jack. I mean, we all have. But-…"

Jack released the breath he'd been holding in his chest.

"Why do you want this so bad..?"

"Wh-What? I never said I wanted them- I'm trying to-"

"Not the fucking pills, Miller. Get your thoughts together. Why'd you want to be a Saint? You're not like us. You're not a lost cause. Don't you get it? This isn't some high-line breed of gangsters, we're just…_rejects._"

"We'll, I…"

"We fight so hard, because we don't care what happens to us. We care about each other, and that's all we have. Because we're all just miserable fuck-ups that needed a second chance. What're _you_? Kinzie's told me, so don't worry about formulating a lie. You're a…preparatory goody two-shoes with perfectly rich and loving parents with a power trip. _That's _why you became a bitch for Loren. Because he promised you power, isn't that it?"

Jack snorted.

"You're just a little bitch playing with computers because that's the only weapon you have under your coat. You play with make-up because you're not scary and you think making a face for yourself will help you stand out among all of us big-leaguers. Isn't that _right_, Mate?"

Jack licked his top lip.

"We don't do any of this because we _want _to. We do this because we've ran out of options. We're not gang-bangers by _choice_. We're gang bangers because it's the only thing we're good at. We were _born_ for this. You weren't. So go the fuck home. Who the fuck do you even think you are?"

Jack shook his head quickly, swallowing, "Huh? Who do you even think you are, Matt Miller? Some kind of God? A nerd playing revenge on his old bullies? You got _out_ of this _gangster _life…You got a job- doing what you love. Fucking around on computers, and you gave it up to come back to _this_. Why? Why, because you think this makes you something _more_? What the fuck is _wrong _with you?"

Matt, bottom lip quivering and eyes wide, let out a shaky breath.

"So fuck you. Fuck you, telling _me _what to do. Telling _me _how to handle things. When you're nothing more than a little pissed off prick, who wishes he could be the leader with all the ammo and all the women and all the fucking fame! You think it's so great? Turning into everything you told yourself as a kid you wouldn't be? Turning into _everything_ your mother _never_ wanted you to be! Just…go the fuck home, Matt Miller."

"Y-Yeah…" Matt whispered for lack of anything else to say, shaking his head in a mixture of shock and disgust.

He snarled his lip up, closing his eyes and clenching his fists.

Here was his hero.

His role model.

And even _he _didn't understand.

No one would _ever _understand.

"…before I go…"

Jack looked up, licking his bottom lip.

Just millimeters away from the pills now…

"…wanna know what was on those tapes, _Mate_?"

Matt smiled darkly, looking up with the waver and quiver of tears resting ontop of the bottom lids.

Jack looked towards Matt, exhausted and breathe erratic, though seemingly disinterested.

Both swallowed.

"The great and mighty Jack Taylor, leader of The Third Street Saints, raped by Jayif Ban'gura. Who, by the way, couldn't of been more than probably ninety pounds."

Jack's flat emotions turned to one of sudden distress, his eyes softening and his gaze studied Matt's dark expression, turning to look at the pills in his hands, reflecting in the glass of his eyes.

"And we've _all _seen it, _Jack_."

"You're lying." Jack bit softly.

"No. I'm not. We've all seen it."

"Y-You.…"

Matt smiled a little wider, feeling the satisfaction of the pain he'd inflicted sink in. But did it take away any of the pain Jack had just sliced through himself?

Did a wound heal another wound?

Jack, looking back down at the pills in his hands, felt every inch of pride slip from his heart and out of his skin in giant streams, flowing out of his pours.

Every inch of respect he'd had left from anyone, was gone.

Everyone knew now.

Everyone knew he was dirty, filthy, unclean- and above all, a pussy.

Everything he'd fought to protect and hide- his emotions and fears, were exposed. He was nothing but a pitiful victim to the world now.

Matt Miller- he'd be sure to make this viral. To make this known to everyone.

And now where was he in life? His father would see it for sure. That was the worst part of it.

Everything- slipping from him so fast.

Every accomplishment- gone.

Every punishment he'd ever recieved- meaningless.

No gangster would be caught dead with a boss who cried and screamed like a little bitch to die while naked and bloody, freshly raped and _defeated_.

Everything he had- was gone now.

And he felt it sucked from him and thrown out the window.

_'He did this on purpose.' _

The voice in his head said.

_'He wants to be leader of the saints! He wants to take everything from you! He made them watch it! He made them watch it! And you just let him! You trusted him. You trusted him and this is what happened. Now your gang, your family, is gonna disown you. Throw you out, just like Dad did. Remember? All over again. History repeats itself, Jack__….it fucking repeats itself! He wanted to make himself the hero! Now who will be the leader…? Not you. You're broken. Useless…It's all down hill from here, they'll say.'_

And all he could see…

…was red.

_'Don't let HIM be the one to throw you out.' _

Jack swallowed. Looking down at the pills, he turned around slowly. Matt was shaking, his whole body in a vibrating rage. Jack shakily set the pill bottle down onto the counter, letting the 2 mg pills roll from his hand onto the counter and turned away, blearily opening a cabinet, grabbing the neck of the first bottle he could find.

Everclear, 190 proof.

Matt's smirk settled back into a look of exasperated disinterest, but internally he was _very _interested. He squinted against the light, looking at the bottle with a furrowed brow.

In a quick motion, Jack popped the top off the pill bottle, and swallowed maybe five…maybe seven…and with a jerking motion slammed the bottle down into his mouth, taking four quick gulps that burnt through his throat and brought on the smallest dew-drop tears behind his eyes that would never show.

Matt opened his mouth, his eyes widening as Jack stole a side-ways glance.

"Did you…You just mixed those with _that_? Does that say _190 proof_?"

Jack snarled his lip up, throwing the bottle towards him, watching his illegal beauty slam into the wall behind Matt, just a few inches to the right of his head.

"Y-You'll die!"Matt whispered, "You…_idiot_!"

"That's the _point_…" Jack snorted, "…you can take away everything I have- but you _won't_ take away my pride, _Mate_."

Pushing himself away from the counter, he jumped over the breakfast nook, taking Matt Miller down in one swift motion. Matt squeezed himself out from beneath him and pushed himself up quickly, running away in a desperate manner as Jack sucked in a couple of breaths, looking towards the bar-rack in a hazy glare. He got up, running in a half-standing position as he grabbed two SMG's, fully loaded with incendiary ammo from behind the bar.

Without even aiming, he pulled the triggers letting out rounds of ammo wastefully, and not to mention that a single shot did not hit Matt Miller.

Only his plush furniture and multi-thousand dollar television he'd finally gotten fixed some time ago felt the pain of Jack Taylor's wrath.

Just as well, a couple window panes also shattered in the process, though surprisingly, not _all _of them.

Doors burst open, and running feet showed themselves as Jack threw himself from the top floor, onto the couch which was smoking, little flames ripping across the back of it.

Matt ran up behind him, crashing him through the glass coffee table and holding him by his shirt collar.

He'd never changed out of his purple button-up and grey trousers.

Jack pushed him off, jumping to his feet quickly, but not without glass shards pushing through his palms.

"What the _hell _is going on?" Kinzie yelled over the yelps Matt made as Jack punched him clean across the face.

"Canonization?" Shaundi looked to Pierce and Johnny for any varying opinions.

"No way." Pierce shook his head.

"Exactly, no way. This isn't right." Johnny replied, shaking his head. "Boss! What's up? Miller no good?"

Jack didn't even hear the screams, he just heard the small voice in his head that was beginning to sound more and more like his father…

_'Remember what happened, Jack. Remember. Never let it happen again. He wants to destroy everything you've worked so hard for. Wants to destroy every bond to everyone you loved. You're gonna fall your own way. You're gonna quit, not be fired.'_

"I'm gonna quit…not be fired." Jack whispered.

"What in bloody hell are you _talking _about?" Miller asked hoarsely, holding two hands onto the blackening bruise across his cheekbone, a pain that was growing and rippling across his body in electric shocks.

Jack took a shaky breath, taking a few steps back, he put a hand to his head and looked up, just for a moment, at the people he once called family.

"Boss?"

His heart rate had definitely slowed. There was a sickening happiness to it.

"Boss."

There was just pure darkness, and he was wrapped around in it's silent lullaby.

"Jack!"

He was drifting in it's sea, feeling the waves of soundless comfort wash over him and drown him slowly.

But he didn't feel panic, he felt release, relief, rejoice in the real world's evanescence.

Beautiful solitude.

His eyes were shut, his body stilled, his lungs constricted and then released.

"Jack, c'mon! Wake up, man."

On the brink of darkness, at the edge of the world, there was beautiful silence.

And nothing could tear him away from the peace.


	21. Daddy Complex

**21**

* * *

"…how long have we been out here..?" Shaundi whispered, a hand propping her forehead up and she shivered beneath the heavy coat donated to her by Johnny.

She stared at the door, opening and closing with the hurried steps of scrub-attired professionals, all with blank stares like nothing was happening.

Nothing of _their _concern, anyway.

That same pit of ugliness was rising in her stomach again, reminding her of the cruelty of the world they lived in when they didn't have guns on them.

"Three hours, forty-five minutes." Oleg solemnly replied after a moment of stretching silence between them.

"What time is it?" She continued.

"Seventy fifty."

She'd run out of questions.

She'd run out of tears.

She'd run of breath to call her own, and now she was living on the life pumped into her by some kind of unseen miracle.

She took a breath, shaking and unstable.

Another one, slower now and followed up by swallowing.

She bunched her hands togethers, her fingers intertwining like sticky candy worms in the mud-slides she and her Dad used to make on the Sundays he got off. When he was off work and she'd wake him up at seven in the morning, right around this time, and they'd open up a fresh bag of gummy worms that he'd gotten the night before.

She'd stick her long fingers down into the bag and grab as many blue ones as she could. She hated the blue ones, but Daddy loved the green ones.

Then thirteen came, and she was _'too cool' _to hang out with her Dad who worked _so _hard to just put the torn-up jersey on her back and the two year old converse sneakers that were on their last few months, on her feet.

And then her brother, in that seemingly meaningless, and utterly _harmless_ little group of boys that smoked pot outside his high-school, died.

He died.

How?

She'd be damned if she'd ever believed the newspapers after that day, when they said it was a mysterious and _unsolvable_ murder. She saw the stab wounds. She saw the blood and the fear in his eyes. She saw it all when they grabbed her from the chain-link fence while she'd been flirting with Nate Angelo. He was a sophomore, but he didn't have to know she was a freshman.

They grabbed her by her cleavage sporting tank-top and lead her through the parking lot by groping her ass. She was scared, but she recognized the guys. And they whispered in her ear that they had him. They had _her_ brother.

He was half-empty by the point she saw him in the corner of the dank post-crack house with stab wounds and wheezing breathe.

And they looked to her.

_'Promise to pay his debt, and we'll let him go.'_

Another pointless turf-war, and _her _brother was the one who had to pay with his life. And _she _was the one who had to pay for the rest of her life.

Every time their father saw him, he couldn't hide the shame- both of them.

Now she would understand the silence at dinner, and understand the tears they both shared some nights, late in the hours of the early morning.

Now she would understand all of that.

She said yes. She'd of said anything to let him go.

He died.

He died anyway, late in the early hours of the morning.

In a hospital, like this. And she was sitting in the waiting room, intertwining her fingers and remembering the sticky worms her father and herself once had shared.

And all the innocence she should of kept, all the night she should of snuggled beside him.

Because now, he could never look her in the eye.

She never ate another gummy worm.

* * *

Gat folded his arms across his chest.

He should've.

That's the only thing he could think.

He should've.

Should've talked to him that night.

He thought he'd let them all have their fun. In the morning, he told himself, he'd talk to Jack at some point. Explain to him that they'd watched the tapes.

He would've hit him on the back, brought him in close, and held him like a real brother.

Even if he cried- he wouldn't coil away or start to feel that nervous twitch whenever he got too close to people. Because this was his brother.

This was his real brother, Jack Taylor.

Maybe not by blood.

But hell, he'd always wanted a brother.

He'd grown up with a younger sister, who was really only his half sister through his dad, named Mai Lee. She lived with her mom after his father decided that he, Johnny, was a bad influence on her '_genius'_.

Yeah, she was always the prodigy child, coveted by the split couple. His own mother, a white woman he never got to know, sent him letters.

But he never got to read any of them- his father showed them to him and burned them.

Johnny figured she was a good person if his father hated her.

And in a language that felt like tin-foil in Johnny's mouth, they'd scream at each other in what was meant to be a soft-spoken language. He disgraced the Korean language, his father would say, but Christ,_ he_ was equally as loud.

He was never good enough. Grades, extra-curricular, or in social life.

It was always- why don't you have 'A's, Jong Han? Mai Lee has a 4.5 GPA. You dishonor your family!

It was always- why aren't you a chess champion like your sister, Mai Lee, Jong Han? You dishonor your family!

It was always-Why don't you have a girlfriend? Mai Lee will marry rich doctor when she older, Jong Han. You dishonor your family!

And he'd yell back, _'It's Johnny Gat, not Jong Han!'_

He remembered the first time he put on sunglasses in a department store he was just fixing to heist with the new gang he'd joined. The _first _gang he ever joined. Hiding those ethnic eyes, hiding every piece of emotion, hiding the man behind the family name felt so _right_.

That little bitch, Mai Lee, who laughed and snorted at him when no one was in the room, was never his sister.

Jack was his brother.

Johnny swallowed.

It'd figure- the only one he ever called family would die.

_Kill himself._

He shook his head.

_'C'mon, Jack..'_

He swallowed, taking a breath. Looking down at the same sanitized linoleum he'd been staring at for four hours now.

_'Jack, this is__…all my fault, man.'_

_'Jong Han, you dishonor your family.'_

Johnny almost combated the words that frequently popped in his head out of ritual habit, but suddenly thought over the words again.

His family. Dishonored his _family_.

_'__….You're right for once, Appa.'_

He nodded.

_'You're right.'_

* * *

He always expected the world from her.

But not in the way everyone else did.

Since she could remember, the world had expected the impossible, and scolded her when she brought on her very best. Every time she felt like she was thirty feet tall, the world shook their heads and said no. No, it wasn't good enough.

He asked the world from her too- but he knew she could deliver it. He knew her limitations, and still looked on at her like an incarnate god brought from heaven. Always urging her for more, to work just a little harder, and then in the end, he'd smile, clap her on the shoulder.

He was a hardass, but the eternal respect- the value of her work _never _went unnoticed in the end. The trust and loyalty she'd placed in him never felt questionable.

She never fell behind in the dust.

And when she was at her end, and she bit back at his words, he would flinch. Unlike the cold statues she'd grown up with. He'd soften for just a second, and she'd see the human side. He'd slink away just slightly, come back softer, and made sure to thank her.

He gave her the breathe of life she needed most days, when she was doubting herself- wondering if life could've went better for her if…?

If what?

She didn't know.

Sometimes, even the most trivial thoughts ran across her mind, on her worst days, she wondered about the most insignificant decisions she'd ever made.

What if she had went by Mackenzie, instead of just Kinzie? Would something even as small as _that _had changed anything?

And then, she'd snort at the humility she felt for even thinking about it, and drown in her self-pity until she'd accomplished something again and she'd sit back and soak in the appreciation that was owed to her by the gang.

And she'd realize again, this is where she belonged.

_Illegal_ was just a _word_.

_Illegal _never really meant _wrong_.

_Illegal _was where she _belonged_.

* * *

It was nine in the morning, and the fluster of tail coats and the click of high heels echoed across the emergency room just above the sound of concerned mothers with their fevered children, yelling at nurses and doctors alike, whoever so happened to roam past them, really.

She sniffed, flipping through a few papers and stood before the motley crew who consisted of three smeared make-up wearing girls, and rumpled-clothing trending men.

She sighed a little, and looked at the person with the first sign of intelligent coherence.

"I believe _all _of you are here for…Jack Taylor. Am I right?"

"That is right." Oleg replied, as her eyes met his, "Is he recovering? He is awake?"

She gaped for a moment at his substantial size and then raised her eyebrows, as though noticing her own ignorance, and looked back down at the papers.

"I-I'm Dr. Johns, and yes, he's awake. We…had complications during the stomach pumping. It was…_difficult_ and he's currently recovering. He's going to be fine, but-" She took in a breath and nodded to herself as she looked back over the notes, "The trouble was, he's not the best patient, just to be bluntly honest with you all here, and you can expect some nausea for a while. During the procedure, the stomach lining was scraped, you could say. So, in effect, there'll be some blood in any emesis, or _vomit_, he may produce. He's going to be put on a twenty-four hour watch considering the severity of his condition and…"

She tapped her pen on the clip-boarded papers, scanning across the attentive eyes of the group.

She knew who Jack Taylor was.

She knew who these people were.

And never in her life, had she seen such undeniable loyalty in _criminals_.

She would've scoffed if she didn't have a job to do.

"…he's going to have to complete a small psychological evaluation before checking out. It's just a little talk with our psychologist, and he'll suggest whether he believes Jack is _mentally _well enough to return home."

"What'd you mean, _mentally well enough_? Look, _Dr. Johns_, our boy isn't…isn't…_crazy. _So, he had a bad night? I mean, _everyone _has a bad-"

"Mr. Washington, he attempted suicide." She said quickly, cutting him off short with a sharp gaze and an iron grip on his denial.

Pierce swallowed his next words, retreating like a beaten puppy.

Her voice calmed and her eyes became understanding as she watched him sink further down into the chair.

Guilt.

Easy to pin-point when you were thrown into these situations so often.

"He tried to _kill _himself, Mr. Washington. This is a _very_ serious matter that we _do _take seriously. Trying to end your own life is very obviously, not a good sign of mental health. You're friend may need some…extensive counseling."

She brought her feet closer together, turning her head sideways.

"I understand, that all of you are feeling some denial or maybe guilt. It's common. But you should't feel guilt, most of all. Your friend is alive and will be much better after some rest. He's sleeping right now, and peacefully. I advise you all go home, take a shower, get some sleep, and eat something. Come back after six, and I'll see what I can do about bending the visitation rules. But for now, let him enjoy these few hours of sleep."

She smiled a little.

"It's going to be hard for him to keep anything down when he wakes up. I'm sure he'd love a few familiar faces then."

* * *

_Here she came, walking up to him in those 'come-fuck-me' high heels._

_Naked._

_Ah, just the way he liked his women._

_On his lap, her lips so close to his ear and oh, she knew how he liked it. He closed his eyes at the sensation of her lips around his ear, her teeth pressing into the cartilage lightly._

_'Little bit of pain, Mr. Taylor?'_

_'Ahhh__…' He shivered, 'Fuck yes.'_

_'Whatever makes you happy, Daddy.'_

_He frowned at the choice of words, feeling whatever prick of excitement rising in his pants- drop flat._

_He remembered those words- a different context, but eerily similar. _

_The first time his father had introduced him to his gang, pushing him to become him and making him become the reflection he saw in the mirror. __To become the perfect gangster he'd always wanted his little boy to be._

_ And his mother would look at him in horror like he was a monster. And Jack would breath uneasily, his eyes flickering back and forth between them. But how could he not choose him? _

_'It's in your blood.' His father said, 'In your blood to be_ **_this_**_._ _You can't run from it, you can't hide from it.' _

_And everything your mother feared- became true in seconds…on his nineteenth birthday._

_'You like that, Daddy?' The stripper whispered in his ear._

_'I like Mr. Taylor, better__…but keep doing what you're doing right….ahhh….there.' _

_'Shh…Mr. Taylor.' _

_Her dark-red fingers nails skimmed down his lips, 'I fucking love foreign men.'_

_He breathed out, grunting slightly before allowing any words to cross his mind._

_'I must be everything you fantasized.' He said sarcastically after some words collected in his mind._

_'And more.'_

_Her hands were sliding beneath his belt, her fingers trailing there way down to-_

_'Mr. Taylor?'_

_'Mmm?'_

_'Mr. Taylor? Wake up, Mr. Taylor.'_

_'What're you talking ab-…I **am **__awake, Love. Keep going.'_

"Mr. Taylor?"

Jack blinked against the sudden blinding light and the pain circling within his abdomen.

Just a…

Just a _dream?_

"Oh, _fuck _me…" He whispered, turning his head away from the fluorescence.

"Sorry to wake you, Mr. Taylor, but it seems you've…" She cleared her throat with a smile in those words, "Would you like some help, Mr. Taylor?"

Jack squinted against the light again and he attempted to raise a hand to point towards the light, but instead, found his sweaty palms restrained, his entire arm, in fact, was pinned down against the bed.

He snarled slightly and jerked against whatever was holding him back, and the woman was suddenly leaning over him, pulling at some sheets that were cocooned around his body.

"Okay, wait…flip over…"

He rolled his eyes to himself at his predicament, and compliantly, rolled to the left as she pulled the sheets at the same time.

"Almost got it…oh, it's wrapped around your leg here."

She pulled at the little wrapped cloth around his right leg and successfully, managed to pull them out from around him.

He would've smiled in relief, if he wasn't attempting to recall the events that lead him to…wherever he was…

He looked around, confused.

Hospital?

She picked them up softly, putting them back across his body and noticeably avoiding shaking them out. He would've asked, but again, his mind was too occupied with the puzzle at hand.

Four AM.

Xanax…

Everclear…

That's it.

"Mr. Taylor, while I have you awake, I'd like to ask if you remember what happened? In other words, do you know why you're here?"

He paused, looking up into her eyes as she smoothed the blanket across his body and he stuck his arms out from in juvenile defiance.

"…No."

"What _is _the last thing you remember?"

"Some…liquor?"

She snorted and put a hand to her mouth, "I-I'm sorry, but…_some_? Your choice of words are pretty poor, Mr. Taylor. You were at an _inhuman _intoxication level. Does the word _Xanax _ring anything?"

"….You found that in my system too, huh?"

"You don't need to lie, Mr. Taylor."

"I'm not lying. Sure, I remember Xanax. Doesn't mean I remember _taking _it. I wouldn't doubt it though, Love."

"That's _Dr. Johns_."

"Sure, sure, Love. Well, thing is, I'm not one for lying. So, I'm gonna go ahead and guess, that I _did _take my _illegal _Xanax with my _illegal_ 190 proofEverclear and vodka. How's that for lying? I'm gonna go ahead and guess further, just to humor you. I'm gonna guess that alcohol and Xanax don't place like the nice little tots they should? Is that it?"

"Are you implying you didn't know?"

"No, I _know _they don't play nice. I told you, I was humoring you."

His voice was darker now and Dr. Johns blinked momentarily. "You attempted suicide, Mr. Taylor. I don't find that humorous."

"Yeah…well…" Jack shrugged it off, looking up to the doctor, "Who hasn't thought about it? Not my fault I'm the only one with balls to do-"

He lurched forward from his position, wrapping one arm around his abdomen and Dr. Johns quickly swung the small table around to his bed, which, on it, a small bowl was placed and immediately, Jack threw up every bit of churned up edible product they'd been pushing down his esophagus when he'd been unconscious.

"That'll be…happening for a while. I hope you enjoyed your sleep while you had it…"

Jack smiled distantly at the memory of the dream, and then frowned.

So close to reliving that ecstasy…

* * *

Jack gripped the railings, his arms convulsing and causing the metal to vibrate at an unearthly speed. His skin was pale and drops of sweat gathered in the creases of his forehead.

Now, he remembered everything.

Everything.

The talk with Miller.

The tapes.

Rape.

He retched again, and the nurse, standing by with a pitying look, picked the bowl up with a gloved hand, setting another in it's place and wiping the left-over puke from his lips with a wet rag.

He released an exhausted breath.

His arms still shaking in his lap as he attempted to close his eyes.

"You're looking…sickly." Dr. Johns murmured with a smile.

Jack re-opened his eyes, looking on through a blurry gaze as the colors and lines formed together again and he could make out her oval face and round eyes that matched her heart-like lips.

"You're paler than me." She commented with a smile, "Don't worry though. You get worse before you get better. Which places you at making progress."

"Doesn't feel like it. Is this normal- puking so much?" Jack murmured.

"Everyone's different, Mr. Taylor, but I'll retain bragging rights. I did predict this."

"I don't _want_ to know how…"

"Good. I don't want to share my secrets."

He quirked an eyebrow.

"Oh, and by the way. You have some visitors…I have to ask permission before I let them in. What'd you think? Are you up to it?"

"Are you kidding me, Love? I'll…have your dog killed or…or something if you let them in. Tell them I'm sleeping or something."

Dr. Johns let out a soft laugh, "Alright, alright, Mr. Taylor. Contain yourself."

Just as the shadows of the figures came into his site, he felt another wave of nausea hit him and lurched forward again, emptying the last of what he'd probably be _able_ to puke into the small bowl, and the same nurse, back again with a glass of water, took the bowl again with another sympathetic smile and wiped his face, though nothing was there this time.

"Man, Doc wasn't kidding, Boss." Gat murmured, "You feelin' like shit or…?"

Jack coughed, sitting back into the bed weakly, "….I'm fine. I'm fine."

"I'll leave you alone…but try and drink that glass of water, Mr. Taylor, _without _it coming back up."

With that, Dr. Johns closed the door behind herself, the soft click of her heels could be heard in the silence.

Jack blinked quietly, swallowing and attempting to ease the burn in his throat from the acid resting in his throat. He looked at the glass of water, droplets slid down the side of the glass, and it was so tempting.

More than anything- he craved water.

But he wouldn't move.

"Boss, we-…" Johnny trailed off momentarily, "I think that we _all _wanna-"

"Know that doctors first name? Fuck yes, mate. Find that out for me, would you? You see the arse on her?"

"Boss."

"While you're doing that- Shaundi, would you mind finding me some _real _food? I'm puking because this shits so nasty. They call this _edible_? Christ, I wouldn't feed my _dog _this."

Jack thought over his words for a second.

"Boss, look, man this is serious, we-"

"Speaking of dogs." Jack cut Gat off swiftly, "Pierce, find me a dog. I want a dog."

"….are you fucking with me?"

"No, I'm not _fucking _with you. I want some huge, threatening motherfucker, too. No pussy dogs. And no puppies."

"You on pain medication?" Pierce questioned, eyeing up the IVs and then down to his pallor, examining the dark rings around his eyes and the slight tremor running through his body.

Strong as ever? No. He shouldn't make the mistake of thinking _that_. He was just resilient.

"Right." Jack snorted, "Someone who just tried killing themselves on addictive medication- and they'd give _me _the pain killers?"

The mood went back to darkness, and Jack turned away from the crowd standing by the door, feeling that rise of hatred make it's way into his cheeks and color them pink.

This was pitiful.

Him, in a bed with IV's and a bowl in front of him in case he had to puke up an organ. Him, in a bed shaking and shivering beneath three blankets. Him, with everyone who once had respect for him, knew him as indestructible, witnessing the precursor to his death.

"Serious as a heart attack…" Pierce murmured, "…I gotcha back, Man."

"Kinzie, Oleg go get the flat fixed." Jack murmured, his voice considerably more flat now, and without the humor he'd attempted to use previously for the sake of hiding his embarrassment.

It was obvious by this point though, because Johnny, who Jack had glared at before turning away, had bit his cheek and looked away. Hands balled into fists and grinding his teeth.

"Wh-What'd_ I_ do…Mate?"

Jack breathed in slowly, looking out the window with the dimming sunlight setting behind the buildings.

He blinked momentarily, looking out of the very corner of his eye at the barren-faced cyber God. Just a black t-shirt and some jeans. No make-up. Nothing special to deck out his usual neon outfit. His side-bang was even tucked behind an ear and in a rustled mess.

"Stay here." Jack murmured. "Sit down."

Matt lowered himself into a chair, slowly with a strong force of hesitation attempting to keep him on his feet. He looked to the others who didn't acknowledge it.

"We'll be back, Boss." Johnny murmured, "We'll be back."

He looked towards the bed-ridden man he called brother with a reassuring pinched expression that Jack didn't see, but both knew he felt.

_'I'm gonna be back, Jack.' _He thought, _'I'm gonna be back, and we're gonna hash this shit out.'_

Jack's lips parted, pulling from each other slowly.

"I know."


End file.
